


Vœux

by vanderloo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Mate Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesiac Stiles Stilinski, Angst, Derek Hale Needs To Use His Words, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, F/F, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Slow Build, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 100,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanderloo/pseuds/vanderloo
Summary: “I’m your husband.”“I’m sorry.” Stiles croaks. “Did you—did you sayhusband?”This is… this is definitely a nightmare. Derek feels like he wants to wake up.--Life is all about moments. Moments of impact. But what if that impact is Stiles' head smashing through a windscreen? Oh, and he doesn't remember any of it. He definitely doesn't remember Derek. He definitely doesn't remember marryingDerek Hale, of all people. And what the hell is thatsmell?Loosely based on the movie 'The Vow'.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 97
Kudos: 299





	1. Moment D'impact

**Author's Note:**

> **Based on:**[this trailer.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_jpmFw1heY)  
>    
> **Warnings:** Brief mentions of a car accident. Panic attacks described within. Oh and some mentions of smoking weed.
> 
> The timeline from the show does not apply. Things happen that are the same, but not in the canon's chronological order. Also the pack are older and they're all either graduated or in the process of graduating high school. Loosely following the plot from The Vow. Not everything will be the same because, werewolves.
> 
> When it says " ** _THEN_** " this is a scene from the PAST, and when it says " ** _NOW_** " this is a scene returning to or continuing the present. If there isn't anything, just assume it's still currently the present!
> 
> _Life is all about moments of impact and how they change our lives forever. But what if one day, you couldn't remember any of them?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
>  **Chapter Title Translation:** Moment D'impact - A Moment of Impact

  
  
Cover by [0o0Vanilla0o0](https://www.youtube.com/user/0o0Vanilla0o0). **♥**

A moment of impact.

These moments of impact – these flashes of high intensity that completely turn our lives upside down – actually end up defining who we are. The thing is, each one of us is the sum total of every moment that we’ve ever experienced with all the people we’ve ever known. And it’s these moments that become our history. Like our own personal greatest hits of memories that we play and replay in our minds over and over again.

Reliving this moment isn’t at the top of Derek’s to-do list.

He hears the truck before he sees it. Tires screeching to his left, the hammering heartbeat of the driver inside, and a flash of neon lights searing through the windscreen. It’s blinding. He’s disorientated, even by his standards, his instincts kicking in the moment it’s already too late.

The truck crashes into them with a loud, metallic screech and shatters all of the windows around him. His Camaro spins on the tarmac, and the smell of burnt rubber in the air is almost enough to make Derek close his eyes to brace for further impact. But it’s the shattering of the windscreen that he can’t ignore. Because there’s a body smashing through it, head first, landing onto the bonnet in front, legs caught in the mess of broken glass.

He can smell the blood.

“Stiles!”

A moment of impact.

Derek’s boot collides with the emergency department’s door with a loud crack. He might have actually smashed the window on it. The sound of glass crunches under him, so yeah, he definitely broke it. There’s blood running down his shirt, and blood plastered to his leather jacket where Stiles’ head is resting on his chest. He can hear his faint heartbeat struggling against him, and Derek is so reluctant to let Stiles go. But he gives him away to an alarmed looked doctor in a white coat and that’s when he feels that his hands are shaking.

He looks down at them. The gold band on his left hand is crusted with blood, sticking to his skin. He’s hurt, or so an attending nurse tells him, but he can’t listen to it. He can’t think straight, and he can’t control his breathing. He can feel himself shifting and he fights against it, shoving his claws into his pockets and following where they were taking Stiles.

Where they are taking his whole entire _life_.

  


The doctors keep checking Derek over, more than twice an hour. Melissa won’t stop eyeing her colleagues as they do it. There’s a quiet communication in her stare, something like _if you turn into a werewolf inside my hospital I will never hear the end of it._ But she never vocalises it. She doesn’t need to, Derek can hear her panic in her heartbeat well enough. He’s already healed. He doesn’t need anyone checking him over. What he _needs_ is for Stiles to wake up.

It has been two days since the accident. Stiles had been placed into a medically induced coma to give his body time to heal itself. Derek can’t stand it. He stays with him day and night, his hand clutching Stiles’ limp one on the hospital bed. He monitors his healing process as best he can, but at some point, sometime during the first night, he can’t take it anymore. He shoves himself onto his feet abruptly, scaring the bejesus out of Melissa who had been writing Stiles’ heart rate into a chart at the time. He doesn’t need to explain himself to her. Dealing with Scott herself would have been knowledge enough that Derek had to blow off some steam without announcing the fact that he was a werewolf to the entire staff.

Derek sprints out of the ICU and crashes through the doors into the cool night air and takes off running, unable to control the shift. He collides with a tree about a mile from the hospital and the trunk cracks with the force of it. With a deep exhale, Derek howls deep into the night sky, letting out his anger and frustration and _grief._

He should never have let Stiles drive. He should have seen the truck coming – he should have stopped everything from happening. He let his guard down too much around Stiles, something they were both paying the price for now. He can still hear the windscreen smash as Stiles’ head collided with it, and the sound his body made as it slammed onto the bonnet. Derek growls loudly at the memory, chest heaving, and he starts tearing at the tree trunk in front of him with his claws.

It doesn’t take long for the others to turn up, having heard his cry.

“What happened?” Boyd is by his side in an instant.

“Are you hurt? Derek, say something!” Erica’s voice is high pitched and panicked.

Scott is the last one to speak, sniffing the air towards the direction of the hospital before turning his head and glaring at Derek, who is now hunched over and dry heaving. “What did you do to Stiles?”

**_THEN_ **

A moment of impact.

Life is all about moments, and how they change us forever. This was one of those moments.

It had started like any other moment. It didn’t seem special right up until it did. Derek stood silently behind Stiles’ bedroom door as he carefully listened to the exchange between him and his father. The Sheriff’s heart was quiet and unreadable to Derek, which didn’t allow him to judge if he believed his son’s lies or not. It was frustrating. It angered him. He didn’t have the patience to deal with Stiles. He didn’t know why Scott kept him around.

Once the door had closed and Stiles pressed his back into it with a relieved sigh, Derek grabbed his collar and slammed him up against it in anger. The back of Stiles’ buzzed head collided with the wood audibly and he winced. His breathing quickened considerably at the contact, and one of his hands curled around the lapel of Derek’s leather jacket.

Derek was in his face in a second, threatening him with a pointed finger. “If you say _one_ word—”

“Like what?” Stiles interrupted, flailing his free arm like some sort of giraffe. Derek paused, not used to being interrupted. “Like, ‘hey Derek Hale’s in my room, bring your gun’?”

Derek faltered, finding himself distracted by the amount of freckles decorating Stiles’ pink cheeks. He lowered his hand slowly and held his breath on instinct, as if there was some kind of threat should he inhale. Stiles eyes were half-lidded and blatantly staring at Derek’s lips which were pursed from scowling. Derek felt a twitch in his abdomen, like a match had been struck but failed to light inside him.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Stiles told him. Derek felt warm breath hitting his face from Stiles’ heaving lungs. “If I’m harbouring your fugitive ass it’s gonna be my house, my rules, buddy.”

Stiles hit Derek on the chest with his free hand, and it felt like someone had shocked him. Like Stiles had a tasers for fingertips. Which he didn’t. Stiles’ hands seemed soft and delicate, and with long fingers like he'd played the piano when he was younger. Derek found himself looking down at where Stiles’ had touched him in awe, because no one had ever really fought back against him, especially not a human. He looked back up at Stiles whose eyes didn’t seem to have wavered from their fixed position on Derek’s lips.

Finally, Derek inhaled. Which was definitely the absolute worst thing he could do because all he got was a nose-full of Stiles’ scent, mixed with adrenaline and a small ounce of fear. Something inside his gut twitched again, but this time it felt like his stomach was set on fire. Like he was burning up from the inside out.

Stiles’ scent was maddening. Those stupid freckles and moles on Stiles’ face were maddening. His stupid pink lips were maddening. Derek didn’t understand why his body was reacting this way, like it was betraying him. He couldn’t move his feet. He was rooted to the spot as if Stiles’ presence was magnetic and his scent drew Derek to him.

“What—” Stiles started, sounding more panicked. “I shouldn’t have said that. Oh man, I shouldn’t have said that. Oh, you’re gonna kill me, right? I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Stop talking.” Derek managed, but it came out more strangled than he’d intended. It seemed to work, though, because Stiles went incredibly still in his grip. Derek’s nostrils flared as he tried to fight his instincts and _get away_ from Stiles. But that scent – it was like it was made for him. Like freshly cut grass and oak wood and just a hint of something sweet.

Stiles turned his head away, unknowingly exposing the side of his neck to Derek. It only made it worse. Derek couldn’t control himself – it was like a drug. He leaned in and pressed his nose to Stiles’ neck and inhaled deeply. It felt like healing, like his body was healing itself after all these years of self-loathing and torment. It encompassed him and Derek allowed it to spread from head to his chest, where it settled and made itself a home. He couldn’t get enough.

But then Stiles turned his head back around and his face collided with Derek’s, which almost snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. But then Stiles’ face was _so close_ and Derek couldn’t fight against himself anymore. He pressed his lips against Stiles’ with more force than necessary, who squeaked in response, arms coming up to Derek’s shoulders as if to push him away. But then he didn’t. He melted into Derek, returning the kiss and wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck. Derek felt like he was spiralling, dragging Stiles along with him, but he didn’t seem too torn up about it once Derek’s tongue was in his mouth.

Derek had read things in the past about finding a mate. How he’d just instantly _know_ and that would be it. But after his relationships in the past, he’d given up on the concept. It was never like he read it in the books, never. Never like this. He felt intoxicated, but his mind had never felt clearer. Like he could finally think clearly and breath again with Stiles pressed against him. And Stiles was kissing him back. Humans could feel a mating connection too, just not as strong as a werewolf could.

“Oh, my god.” Stiles managed as he broke their kiss. Meanwhile, Derek was nosing along his jaw and inhaling. “Oh, my god.”

“I’m Derek.”

“Did you just make a joke? That was a joke. A joke just came out of your mouth.” Stiles scoffed. Derek grunted, sliding his hand up from Stiles’ collar to his neck. “So, uh. We are, uh. Making out. Now. So that’s a thing.”

“It was, until you stopped me.”

“I didn’t! I mean—” Stiles stammered for words, and it took all of Derek’s willpower not to bite down on his neck and mark him right there. “I feel drunk. Am I drunk? Did you do something to me?”

“No.” Derek told him, nosing along his neck and up to his jaw. “You’re reacting to me. My smell. It’s chemical.”

Stiles made a small noise in the back of his throat like he was trying to repress it before it escaped, and the muscles in Derek’s back tensed at the sound. “This is crazy. You’re crazy. You’re a fugitive. Werewolf. And I’m—can’t stop thinking about—” Stiles stopped and tried to arrange his thoughts, but Derek was enjoying it too much so he started kissing the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “Yep. Yeah. Kissing is what needs to happen right now.”

Derek smirked against Stiles’ cheek and kissed him again, long and hard and slow, like he was trying to taste Stiles from the inside out. After a long moment, Derek pulled back and looked Stiles in the eye. “You’re mine.”

And then bit him.

**_NOW_ **

“I _knew_ something like this would happen!” Scott’s eyes are flashing gold like small embers ready to turn into a blaze. Melissa closes the door behind her to Stiles’ room, guarding it from everyone else on the floor. “He should never have been with you in the first place!”

Derek says nothing. He won’t even lift his gaze from Stiles’ unconscious form to look Scott in the eye, but his fingers twitch against Stiles’ own.

“This is all your _fault!_ ” Scott sounds like he’s on a rampage, or is about to be. Derek deserves it. “It’s all your fault!”

It’s Erica who steps in to protect Derek, since Derek isn’t about to leave Stiles’ side any time soon. “Scott.” Erica says, calm and collected, but there’s a crack in her voice that Derek’s sure Scott notices too. Stiles is pack, and Stiles being hurt affects all of them, not just Derek. “There’s a time for talking and there’s a time for shutting the hell up.”

“He’s the reason Stiles is in here!” Scott glowers at the woman now standing between him and Derek, making a move to push her to the side and baring his teeth. “He’s the reason—”

“Scott.” Boyd says lowly and places a firm hand on Scott’s shoulder in warning. “He’s going to be okay. His heartbeat’s strong.”

Scott snarls in response, trying to shake off Boyd’s hand. “He’s not. He’s— he’s my—"

“I know.” Erica tells him, now so quiet Derek almost doesn’t hear her. “We know.”

“He’s—” Scott’s anger wavers and they all watch it fizzle away into raw grief. Tears collect at the corners of his eyes and he doesn’t even bother fighting them. He pushes his way past Erica but doesn’t go for Derek. Instead, he sits himself down shakily on the chair on the other side of the bed and takes Stiles’ hand into both of his own. He brings it to close to his face and closes his eyes.

Derek snarls immediately, making a move to stand. “What are you doing?”

Scott opens his eyes and looks at Derek, and immediately Derek sits back down in his chair. “I’m taking his pain.”

After what feels like hours, Erica places her hand on the pale, freckled skin of Stiles’ ankle and closes her eyes too. Boyd mimics her on the other ankle. Derek’s pack is _hurting_ and he can’t do anything about it. He can’t focus on it – he can’t focus on anything except his unconscious mate on the bed in front of him. He has been taking Stiles’ pain for hours now, and is starting to feel the tickle of a headache behind his ears. He’s thankful for his pack now more than ever. They are stronger together than they are apart.

And he will be forever in debt for this caring gesture towards his mate.

  


A moment of impact.

It starts with the flutter of a heartbeat. In a moment, Derek is on his feet and towering over Stiles. It flutters again, faster this time, and Derek presses his hand on the side of Stiles’ ribcage to feel the steady intake of breath into his lungs. Melissa is at his side in an instant, mimicking Derek’s stance on the other side of Stiles. She glances at the screens to her left that monitor Stiles’ heart rate, before looking back down at him with concerned eyes.

“He’s waking up.” Melissa tells Derek, and it’s like music to his ears. “He needs space. Move.”

Derek puts up a fight at first, before Melissa gives him her best _I’m a nurse and also a mother to this kid and I know better than you_ look that actually makes him lean back. He still keeps Stiles’ fingers interlinked with his own. He can hear his pack in the hallway reacting to the news, but they know better than to enter the room right now. Derek is the only one who gets to be with Stiles right now, and they all know it.

Derek holds his breath when Stiles’ eyes slowly flutter open, and it feels like forever since he’s seen those brown eyes. Derek’s heart hammers inside his chest at the sight. _Stiles._

“Stiles?” Melissa asks softly, gently touching the skin of Stiles’ forearm. Had it been anyone else, Derek might have growled at that. But not now. Stiles’ eyes are glazed over and unfocused at first, until Derek squeezes his hand.

“Stiles?” Derek asks, soft and low, like he hasn’t spoken for days. Stiles looks up at him. “Hey, I’m here.”

“Where—” Stiles starts, but his voice cracks and he begins to cough. Derek feels like his heart breaks at the sound. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital now.” Melissa tells him, after Derek looks like he’s forgotten how to talk, too enamoured by the sight of Stiles. “You were in a car accident.”

Stiles visibly starts to panic at that. Anxiety rolls off him in waves and Derek can smell it right away. He squeezes Stiles’ hand gently, hoping the skin-to-skin contact will ease his mate’s mind.

“You’re fine. Do you hear me?” Melissa says firmly and places a hand on Stiles’ forehead, careful to avoid the bandages on his scalp. Stiles looks at her like she’s his lifeline. “You’re fine. Do you understand?”

Stiles seems to calm down a bit at that, nodding softly to himself. His eyes dart around the room like he’s trying to work out which hospital he’s in, or to double check what Melissa had told him. He glances up at Derek before returning his eyes to Melissa.

“Scott?”

“He’s outside.” Melissa assures him. “He’s been here all night.”

“Is he hurt too?” Stiles asks. Melissa falters visibly, her eyes moving to Derek, who looks at her in worry. Melissa takes a seat next to Stiles’ bed and shakes her head.

“No, he’s not hurt.”

“Freakin’ werewolves.” Stiles manages a snort, but there’s no humour in it. “In a car wreck and doesn’t get hurt.”

Derek falters now too. He can hear Scott’s heartbeat quicken from the hall, just like his own. He looks over to Melissa for help, but she just has a frown on her face and a worried crease in her forehead from where her eyebrows have furrowed. There’s a thick tension in the room now. Derek can feel it raise the hairs on the back of his neck. He clears his throat.

“Scott wasn’t in the car with you.” He says, and exhales softly when Stiles looks up at him with his big brown eyes.

“Oh.” Stiles seems unnerved by that, and Derek opens his mouth to continue but Stiles cuts him off. “Was anyone else hurt?”

“I—” Derek can’t find the words. “I’m not hurt, no. Not anymore.”

Stiles furrows his brow, which seems to be a mistake because he winces in pain and makes a move to touch his forehead before realising that his hand is weighed down by Derek’s own. He looks down at their intertwined fingers.

“Stiles, what do you remember from the accident?” Melissa asks suddenly, looking like she can feel Stiles’ pain herself. Stiles doesn’t take his eyes off Derek’s hand, and wiggles his fingers a bit as if he wants Derek to let go.

“Not—not a lot.” Stiles tells her, but Derek can feel that he’s lying. After a moment, Stiles closes his eyes. “Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”

Melissa looks at Derek with worry, before rising to her feet and patting Stiles gently on the arm. “Let me go get your doctor.”

“He isn’t my doctor?"

Melissa freezes like she’s been suspended in time. _He isn’t my doctor?_

Derek can’t hear anything from Stiles’ heartbeat now. He can’t tell if he’s joking, or if he’s lying. Would Stiles make that sort of joke right now? Or lie about it? With a pack of werewolves outside his door? Or his mate next to him, more in tune to Stiles than anyone? Stiles is looking at Derek strangely, and suddenly there’s a change in the air. Stiles seems a bit taken aback, and removes his fingers from Derek’s with a strange look on his face. Like he’s bitten into a lemon or something.

“Stiles, you know who I am, right?”

“I thought you were a little handsy for a doctor.” Stiles says suspiciously, uncomfortable.

Derek feels himself shatter from the inside out.

“Derek is…” Melissa starts, before seemingly composing herself and taking a step back towards the end of Stiles’ bed. Derek exhales.

“I’m your husband.” He tells Stiles, but it’s as if he’s speaking to a stranger. Or like he’s speaking a different language because Stiles’ face contorts like he’s grown another head.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles croaks. “Did you—did you say _husband?_ ”

Derek says nothing. Stiles looks bewildered.

“Derek brought you here.” Melissa tells him. “You were in the car together when you crashed. He carried you here.”

“ _Carried me?”_ Stiles asks, eyes wide and frightened. “Are you kidding? This isn’t a nice time for jokes, Ms McCall.”

“Stiles, it isn’t a joke.” Derek says, deflated. He lifts Stiles left hand and shows him the gold band on his finger, moving to let him see the identical one on Derek’s own finger. Stiles stares at their hands for a long time. No one in the room moves, even the ones outside are still and silent. Something inside Derek bubbles, like he’s bursting at the seams, and he can’t stop himself when his eyes flicker a light blue.

Stiles sees it, of course, and moves his hand away from Derek’s carefully. “You’re a werewolf.”

“Yes.” Derek says, even though it didn’t really sound like a question. He’d never once had to answer that question from Stiles. He always known what Derek was, right from the beginning of everything, back before Scott even knew. This is… this is definitely a nightmare. Derek feels like he wants to wake up.

“You’re telling me I married a _werewolf_.”

“Yes, you—you’ve been married for six months now.” Melissa says, but her voice is breaking. “I came to your wedding. Scott was your best man.”

“I don’t remember.” Stiles says. And there’s no doubt that he’s telling the truth. No heart flutter, no crackle. No shortness of breath. Stiles, his mate, doesn’t know who Derek is. “I don’t know anything about any of this!”

Derek steps back like he’s been slapped hard across the face. His chest feels hollow now, like it did before everything. When he lived in a burnt out building his family used to occupy, living alone and spending his nights alone. Derek is hollow. Melissa seems to sense Derek’s inner turmoil immediately, because she leans over to Stiles and touches his ankle reassuringly. Stiles seems to calm down at the touch of her, and Derek feels like dry heaving.

“It’s okay, honey. You hear me?” Melissa told him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blows dust away* Is this ship still alive? 
> 
> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_jpmFw1heY) trailer just immediately resonated with me and I knew I had to do something with it. Credit goes to [ 0o0Vanilla0o0](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClNsGXOt8e70Y-y1oV5Yqmw) and their beautiful imagination and creativity. ♥ I kind of grabbed the idea and took off running with it. 
> 
> The timeline from the show does not apply. Things happen that are the same, but not in the canon's chronological order. Loosely following the plot from The Vow too. Not everything will be the same because, werewolves.
> 
> Merci et prends soin de toi!


	2. Douleur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
>  **Chapter Title Translation:** Douleur - Grief

**_THEN_ **

****

Stiles’ eyes were trained on his laptop, scanning over and over words that didn’t really feel like words anymore. He’d tried googling things about werewolf mating rituals, mating in general, anything, _something_ that would explain what the hell was going on between him and Derek. He’d never _felt_ anything like that before. It was like Derek was electrocuting him, but in a good way? Like he’d zapped every other thought out of Stiles’ mind the second he touched him. Like Lydia was a distant memory. He felt like he was under some spell.

Was _that_ it? Was he under a spell? “Oh, my god.”

But, okay no. Stiles was pretty sure Derek wouldn’t put him under a spell like that, considering all Derek went on and on about before was how much he detested Stiles. Well, not in words, per say, but Stiles could tell from his expression. And most of all, his _eyebrows._ Derek communicated a lot with them. Anger, fear, desire, you name it. Desire for Stiles.

With a frustrated huff, Stiles slammed his laptop shut and proceeded to bang his forehead against it until it hurt. His neck throbbed like he’d been thrown against something. Well, he had. His bedroom door. Last night. By Derek. And Derek had bit him and _marked_ him. Some googling made it clear that Derek had staked a claim on Stiles now, which meant it was permanent. The teeth marks on his neck wouldn’t heal properly. He belonged to Derek now, and the thought really didn’t freak him out as much as it should have. He couldn’t really be Derek’s mate. Right? It had to be some sort of joke. Anything Stiles felt was just the result of him being _seventeen._ And horny pretty much all the time. He wasn’t mate material. He was soft and skinny and weak and _human._ Derek could have the pick of the town – with that _face,_ like seriously, are you kidding? – instead of settling for someone like him. He could have a werewolf, and they could go run off into the woods and have cubs together or something. And Stiles could continue to live vicariously through Scott like he had been for a while now.

Stiles’ stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought.

There was a sharp knock at his bedroom door, and he looked up to find his best friend standing there as if he had to be invited inside. Scott’s eyes were flashing gold, and he looked like he was weighed down by something that prevented him from moving from the doorway. He scrunched up his nose in distaste but didn’t say anything. After a minute, Stiles forced himself to grin but there wasn’t any heart in it. “Hey, man.”

“Why was Derek here?” Scott asked plainly, like his own words had offended him. Stiles flailed his arms and ended up spinning his chair in a circle before rooting his feet to the ground and staring at Scott.

“What? How do you even _know_ that?”

“I can smell him.” Scott told him like it was the most normal thing in the world. Because, seriously? Werewolf noses? Not fair.

“You can smell him.” Stiles gave his best friend a look that conveyed just how _creepy_ that sounded. Scott wasn’t backing down, though. It wasn’t like him. “He came to warn me about telling my dad his big, bad secret.”

“He threatened you?”

“Well—” Stiles started, then stumbled over his words before sighing and rubbing at the side of his neck, feeling the indents there. “Kind of. Not really. Maybe a little, I guess.”

Scott stepped into the room finally, gripping his book bag so hard on his shoulder that Stiles could see the veins popping out of his forearm. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and wow, Scott had gotten a lot bigger in the past week. Stupid werewolves. Why couldn’t it have been Stiles instead? He was doomed to be the sidekick forever. Doomed to be a mate. He winced at the thought. Scott didn’t even bother hiding the fact that he was freaking _sniffing_ the air of Stiles’ room. Stiles watched him, gaping, an unfamiliar nervousness creeping up on him. He didn’t know how to tell his best friend that his enemy had declared him his mate.

Scott came to a halt in the middle of the room, sniffing the air like it had offended him. Like he was about to whip out some kung-fu werewolf moves and start a fight with nothing. Stiles stumbled to his feet and almost crashed into the door to close it in case Scott shifted and decided to go on a rampage through the town. Not that a small wooden door would stop him much, Stiles reminded himself, but it gave him peace of mind that they would at least have some privacy. Scott was looking at him with wide, alarmed eyes.

“Dude, _what?_ ” Stiles demanded, holding his hands up in the air. “I come in peace.”

Scott didn’t respond. He didn’t even act as if Stiles had said anything. Instead, he took a step towards Stiles, invading his personal bubble because hey, that seemed to be a thing that people did now. Yay. Scott _sniffed_ Stiles. And, hell no. He couldn’t handle two werewolves assaulting him within 24 hours. That just wasn’t happening.

He pushed Scott away with a hard shove, and Scott stumbled back like he’d been shot. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s _you._ ” Scott said it like everything made sense. Except absolutely _nothing_ made sense anymore. His best friend was a freaking _werewolf_ , and Derek was his _mate._ Nothing made sense, not at _all._

“Yeah, it’s me.” Stiles patted himself on the chest. “Me. Stiles. Your best friend,” he waved his hand in the air for emphasis, “hey. Hi. Hello?”

Scott shook his head. “ _You_ smell like Derek.”

“Oh.” Because there really wasn’t anything else to say to that.

“Oh?” Scott demanded, dropping his bag on the floor and putting his hands on Stiles upper arms and shaking him. “What do you mean ‘oh’? Stiles, what—”

“I already told you,” Stiles sounded flat, even to his own ears, “he came to warn me. Something about how he’d kill me if I said anything, yadda yadda. You know. The usual. With the eyebrows.” He wiggled his own eyebrows for emphasis, but he knew his impression would pale in comparison to the real thing. “He does a lot of talking with his eyebrows. Did you notice that? And he’s always making this face, like the sky insulted his honour or something.”

“No, Stiles. That’s not why you smell like him.” Scott glared at him, and Stiles could swear, just a little bit of steam came out of his ears. “You’re lying. What happened? Tell me right now.”

“Hey! Back off!” Stiles slapped at Scott’s arms but it was like hitting a freaking brick wall. He gave up trying to loosen Scott’s grip and settled for staring at the floor between them. “Let go.”

“Stiles, talk to me.” Scott’s eyes softened, but it wasn’t without effort. Stiles could tell he was trying to calm himself down to get him to talk. But that _so_ wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t about to tell his best friend about his love life. If that’s even what it was. Even if he’d read online that werewolves mate for life, and that him and Derek were now bound together whether he liked it or not. Could he get Derek arrested for that? Force-binding him? _Hey, I wanna report a crime, some guy with big eyebrows bit me and now I belong to him, so like, yeah?_

He could just see their faces now.

“Stiles, you smell like him a lot. Like more than Derek smells like Derek.”

“What does that even _mean_?”

“It means—I don’t know, I—like when I’m with Allison.”

“Derek smells like Allison?”

“What? No—no that’s not what I’m trying to—” Scott sighed heavily, after getting caught up in Stiles’ feeble attempt to change the subject. And it had worked for a hot second, too. Suddenly Scott tensed visibly, and for some reason Stiles felt himself ease a little bit. Like there was a calming aura surrounding him and having the adverse effect on his best friend. Scott’s nostrils flared in anger and his grip tightened painfully on Stiles’ upper arms.

“Let him go.”

Derek was standing at Stiles’ bedroom window, having welcomed himself in without so much as a creak of the floorboards. Stiles almost jumped out of his skin and if it wasn’t for Scott’s death grip, he might just have hit the ceiling. Derek’s arms were at his sides, but his hands were tightened into fists and his eyes were glowing blue. His leather jacket looked like it was about to burst at the seams. Stiles felt this weird impulse to go to him, for whatever reason. Like his feet were controlled by something other than his own body.

“What—” Scott sounded strangled. Derek took a menacing step forward, now within arm’s reach of Scott but he kept his arms at his sides.

“Let him go.” Derek ordered, voice low and Stiles felt the hairs at the back of his neck make themselves known. “Now.”

Then Scott snatched his arms away from Stiles like they were burned. He watched as Scott looked down at his palms in agony and bewilderment. Stiles inhaled deeply, smelling something in the air that he really, _really_ liked. Was it Derek? Was it the mate thing? Was he being mind-controlled? Not that it mattered. Stiles was powerless at the best of times.

“What did you do to him?” Scott snarled, chest heaving. Stiles watched in wonder as Scott’s nails grew to two times their normal length. He was shifting. Stiles felt a deep need to protect Derek and took a step between them to shield him. But then Derek’s arm was around him in a flash, hot like burning, like he could feel Derek’s skin through his jacket. Derek held Stiles behind him and bared his teeth at Scott.

What was this? Some kind of pissing contest over Stiles? Stiles huffed and hit the back of Derek’s shoulder repeatedly until he backed down. Turns out it didn’t take much persuasion, because soon Derek actually straightened and his teeth returned to their normal length. So, huh. Stiles must have super powers. There’s no way he could get Scott to control himself like that. He would try, though, if it hadn’t been for Derek’s death grip on his side, and for the brick wall that was Derek’s back in front of him. He was effectively pinned against the older man. Derek was protecting him. _Derek._ Protecting _Stiles._

What the _hell_?

“Get away from him.” Scott snarled, in full wolf mode now. Derek didn’t release his hold on Stiles.

“No.” Derek said simply, nice and low and smooth and something inside Stiles awakened. He wriggled around in Derek’s arm until his grip loosened an inch and it was just enough. Stiles peered around Derek at Scott who was, to be honest, looking really awesome. Derek must have sensed Stiles’ admiration because he tightened his arm around his waist, Stiles now pulled against his side. “Stop.”

“What did you do?” Scott wouldn’t stop growling.

“Nothing. You know I can’t control it.” Derek grunted back. Stiles eyes flicked between them. “It wasn’t up to me.”

“You seem to be deciding things pretty well for yourself.”

“It’s instinct.” Derek told him. Stiles felt light headed suddenly, Derek’s scent swirling in his brain and making his eyes struggle to stay open. He leaned his forehead against Derek’s shoulder in defeat. Derek responded by wrapping his other arm around Stiles’ waist and inhaling. “You don’t know what it feels like.”

“I don’t _want_ to know.” Scott snarled, raising a hand in warning as if he were about to strike Derek. But then he just stopped here, hand suspended in mid-air as he tried to fight against it. He growled loudly, so loud Stiles was sure his neighbours would call the cops. “What—”

“You can’t.” Derek said simply, as if Scott weren’t even a threat. Stiles’ brain went into overdrive, and whether it was because this was a really stressful situation or because Derek’s smell or his cologne or _something_ was making him feel like he could fly.

“You can’t hurt an Alpha’s mate.” Stiles said, and his voice didn’t even sound like his own. He sounded… he actually sounded calm.

Derek tensed around Stiles’, as if hearing him say it out loud did something to him. He composed himself before Stiles could even mention it, though, and damn werewolves and their self-control. Scott looked hurt. Stiles had seen it before whenever an injured dog got brought into the vet’s office, that same look. Like Scott’s heart might break. Stiles had never felt so guilty in his life.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Scott suddenly shifted back to human with a grunt, something Stiles knew he did when he’d been hurt. “I wasn’t trying to hurt _you_ , Stiles.”

“You were aiming for me.” Derek said suddenly. “You hurt me, and you hurt Stiles.”

“I thought that was a myth.” Stiles prompted suddenly, as if this conversation was the most normal thing in the world. He looked up at Derek from where he was hiding against his shoulder, and his nose brushed the side of the Alpha’s neck. Derek tilted his head to look down at Stiles curiously.

“It isn’t.” Derek then returned his gaze to Scott, who looked something like a kicked puppy. “When we’re this close together, we’ll both feel pain.”

“So you’re saying, if you stand like a meter apart I can hit you?”

Stiles snorted against Derek’s shoulder at Scott’s outburst.

“More like ten meters.”

Abruptly, Scott grabbed his book bag and yanked open Stiles’ door before disappearing out of the room. Stiles remained silent as he listened for the front door to slam closed before he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Well, that was one way to storm off dramatically. Scott had clearly been hanging out with Lydia too much.

“Why?” Stiles found himself asking, feeling Derek begin to relax against him and his grip loosening around his waist. “Why me?”

“Were you listening to anything I said?”

“Well, I was a little _distracted_ by the fifty-pound _werewolf_ arm around me!”

Derek laughed, actually _laughed_. Stiles felt like he was about to cough up a lung. He shook his head and pushed away from the older man and tried to keep some shred of his dignity.

“It’s just an instinct.” Derek told him. “First, it was the way you smell.”

“You werewolves and your _smells._ ” Stiles threw his hands up in the air like he was trying to take off flying. “Scott kept going on and on about how I smell like _you._ ”

“You do now.”

“Well, great. That’s just great.” Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and tried to calm himself down. Derek stood still as a statue in front of him, like none of this was bothering him. Like this was nothing out of the ordinary. Stiles felt like wringing his neck. “What about how I smell? Is it bad? It’s bad, right? Because in case you haven’t noticed, I’m seventeen, and I don’t really hang around near flower beds or anything, so I can’t smell like—"

“You smell the opposite of bad.” Derek said simply.

“Oh, gee, thanks. Was that a compliment?” Stiles huffed and turned around, because he couldn’t even look at Derek anymore. “Most people would just say, hey, you smell nice. What are you wearing? Something like that, you know. Not just, yeah you don’t smell bad just maybe the opposite of that.”

“You’re not wearing anything.” Derek said from behind him.

“Ha! Yes I am.” Stiles laughed weakly. “I’m wearing _clothes_ and _shoes_ and _socks_ , thank you.”

Suddenly Derek’s very large and very warm hand was on his shoulder, spinning his body back around to look at him. Derek looked younger without the stubble on his cheeks, and Stiles couldn’t decide which way he preferred. Then he caught himself because it wasn’t even his decision. Derek couldn’t possibly want him that way. There had to be some mistake here.

“You’re not wearing cologne. I know you haven’t showered—”

“Oh, crap. Do I stink?” Stiles raised his arm and sniffed at his armpit.

“No.”

“Would you even tell me if I did?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.” Stiles rolled his eyes, then focused his gaze on Derek’s hand on his shoulder. It shouldn’t feel as intimate as it did, really. Considering Derek’s freaking tongue was in his mouth the night before. Or maybe he’d dreamed that part. He wouldn’t put it past his brain. Maybe Derek just pushed him around a little bit and left, and that’s why his scent was all over Stiles. That’d make more sense, at least.

“Stiles.”

“Hello.” Stiles said stupidly. Derek’s eyes were on him, and then they softened slightly, before the corner of the Alpha’s lips quirked a bit. Stiles felt his heart enter his throat then. It was as if someone had opened a bag of pheromones in the room, kicked back and put their feet up on Stiles’ coffee table. Or something like that, because for the _life_ of him he couldn’t stop staring at Derek’s lips. “What is this?”

“We’re connected.” Derek said like it was the answer to everything. He reached up and touched Stiles’ cheek with his thumb. “Bonded.”

“Mated?” Stiles croaked.

“Yes.” Derek said, then hesitated. “Well, almost.”

“ _Almost?_ ” Stiles barked. “You mean it’s going to get worse?”

“Worse?” Derek looked hurt suddenly, and Stiles wished he could take his words back. He placed his hand over Derek’s and held it to his face.

“I meant… what do you mean almost?”

“I’ve marked you as mine.” Derek told him, and Stiles shivered. “But the deal isn’t exactly sealed.”

“You make it sound like a business transaction. Like you’ve got me at the store, then beeped as you left. Like you want a refund.”

Derek forced Stiles to meet his eyes. “Trust me. I don’t want a refund.”

Stiles believed him. So, maybe this was real. Derek really did choose him. “You must be feeling really stupid right now.”

Derek blinked. “What?”

“I mean, have you seen you?” Stiles waved his free hand at Derek for emphasis. “You’re way out of my league. You’re not even in my league. You’re so far away from my league it’s unreal. Like I’m not even on the bench. This isn’t even my sport.” Derek huffed in response but didn’t say anything, prompting Stiles to continue filling the silence. “You could literally go outside and throw a rock or something and it’d stick to plenty of hot girls who’d get in line, if you know what I mean. I mean, have you really not seen you?”

“I own a mirror.”

“Then you need to get your wolf eyes checked, man, because—” Stiles stammered, putting emphasis on the _causeeeee._ Derek only looked puzzled and, god, he was really going to make him say it, wasn’t he? “You’re hot. You’re smoking hot. And I’m—” Stiles couldn’t find the right words, eventually giving up. “I’m me.”

Derek seemed to understand after that. His hand descended, thumb brushing over Stiles’ lips before his fingers settled on the side of his neck. His fingertips grazed the teeth marks there and Stiles could hear his heart hammering in his chest. “You are you.”

“State the obvious, why don’t you?”

“You said it first.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a statement!” Stiles spluttered, surely spitting on Derek in the process. “It was supposed to emphasise and I am in no way as hot as you. And you could do a lot better than me. You could—”

“I want _you._ ” Derek told him, and Stiles resigned himself with a soft ‘oh’. He was sure Derek could read his shock in his face, because let’s face it, he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions. Something he’d inherited from his mother. “Stiles.” Derek took his face in both of his hands. “It’s you. You’re the one.”

Stiles looked at Derek cautiously, scanning his face for any sort of tell. Anything that would let Stiles know he was lying. But as usual, Derek was unreadable. Not even his eyebrows were broadcasting. There was nothing but a heat between them, a fire in Derek’s eyes. They flashed blue in front of him. And that was really all the answer Stiles needed right now.

“Okay.” Stiles stood up straighter. “I’m gonna need—I’m gonna need you to kiss me right now before I explode or something.”

Derek smirked a bit. “I was thinking the same thing.”

It took all of Stiles willpower not to melt right into Derek after that. Well, he totally did, but he’s never going to admit it.

**_NOW_ **

****

Stiles is sitting up in bed in the afternoon, the pain in his head having subsided after Scott had visited him. Scott had taken some of his pain away, but only the physical. Stiles was having a hard time wrapping his head around it all. There was no way Scott would let him marry a werewolf, especially not an Alpha one, right? Who even was this guy, anyway? How did Scott even know him? And why could Stiles remember everyone else except Derek?

He’s absently playing with the gold band on his wedding finger, spinning it around and around in case everything would suddenly make sense after a few turns. But nothing happens. He removes the ring from his finger and studies his hand. There’s indents in his finger where his ring has been, as if he’d been wearing it for forever. His finger actually burns a bit once he removes it, prompting Stiles to put it back on his finger to slow his hammering heartbeat.

“I don’t remember.” Stiles says out loud, not really sure if Scott is listening anymore. Scott looks a bit different than Stiles remembered him from where he is sitting at the side of the bed, slumped into an uncomfortable chair for the past hour. He’s _bigger_ and stronger and his hair is shorter. Stiles touches his own hair to compare. It feels longer than it’s ever been before and he grimaces at the feeling, being used to the buzzcut he had before. Well, _his_ before. As in yesterday. For the others though, it’s been years.

Scott tilts his head towards Stiles a bit, and he figures it’s kind of the equivalent of a dog tilting one of his ears towards an offending sound whilst he’s focused on something else. Scott says there had been chatter in the hall between his mom and Stiles’ doctor, so he’s been listening to it for a while. He’s trying to get an update on Stiles’ injuries, and his apparent amnesia. Stiles feels fine though, physically, other than the fact he was hurled through a windscreen – or so they _tell_ him. His face is bashed and bruised and there’s a nice new black eye for him to look at in the mirror, and a gash down his left cheek. But otherwise he looks… older. Not much, but enough for him to notice. His hair being longer doesn’t help.

“I know you don’t.” Scott tells him, leaning forward in his chair. He glances at Stiles but Stiles knows he’s still focused on the sounds outside his door. “It’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know that, Scott?”

“I just do.” Scott tells him in an authoritative way, as if somehow him being a werewolf gives him power over Stiles. But hell no.

“What do you mean you _know?_ You don’t know anything!” Stiles yells, and it feels like there’s a hammer being smashed on his head but he doesn’t stop. “I wake up in the hospital and your mom is telling me I was in a car accident I don’t _remember_ even being in! That I can’t remember the past two years of my life! I’m married to a werewolf, Scott!”

There’s a shuffle outside his door, as if someone is about to come in, but then decides against it once Scott snarls. Great. Using his werewolf powers again. Is future Scott always this much of a dick?

“I know, Stiles. I know it’s a lot to take in. My mom’s doing everything she can, you know that.” Scott is focusing on him now, no longer worried about what’s going on in the hallway. He takes a hold of Stiles’ left hand and squeezes. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“How are we going to figure this out, Scott? Because I’m fresh out of ideas, and I’m fresh out of patience.”

“Look,” Scott sighs in defeat, and it looks like he ages a bit, deflated, “I don’t know how you must be feeling. It’s hard on me too. It’s hard on all of us. But we’re going to be here for you. I’m not going to leave you alone in this.”

Stiles doesn’t feel calmed by Scott’s little speech. In fact, it actually makes him feel worse. It feels like his throat is closing up and he chokes out a breath. That second Scott is on his feet and herding Stiles down onto the bed with alarm in his eyes. A panic attack, great. That’s just what Stiles needs right now. Good to know he hasn’t grown out of _that_ great characteristic in the past two years.

He hears what sounds like the door to his room being swung open and then there’s a strange heat on his hand like someone is holding it. His body welcomes the warmth, but his mind recoils from it and he groans aloud. Which is absolutely the wrong thing to do because whatever air is left in his lungs leaves him in that moment. There’s a voice in his ear and a hand on his forehead, and Stiles feels like he recognizes the touch. But then he doesn’t anymore, and the panic comes back.

“Stiles.” There’s a soft voice in his ear, calming him and shushing him. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Something in his chest screams that it’s Derek’s voice. Even if his ears hadn’t recognized it, his body tells him definitively that it’s him. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. But right now, as he’s gasping for air, he clings onto whatever lifeline he’s got. He squeezes at Derek’s hand, and breathes in, long and hard, a strangely sweet smell assaulting his nostrils. Whatever it is, it calms him down almost right away. Maybe Melissa has rushed in with something to help, or Lydia is here with her essential oils and lavender-y things. Whatever it is, Stiles can’t get enough of it.

“It’s working.” He hears Scott say from somewhere far away. Or maybe somewhere close. He can’t really tell. He feels Derek shift on the bed without realising that Derek had actually perched next to him in the first place. It feels like Derek’s hand is shaking against his own.

“Stiles, I’m here.” Derek tells him, all breathy and low. Stiles feels intoxicated. “I’m here. Breathe. Breathe next to me.”

And Stiles does as he’s told. Derek snakes an arm around Stiles’ waist and sits him up in the bed with ease. Because, _werewolves._ If Stiles wasn’t panicking he might have said something snarky. Then his nose is pressed against the curve of Derek’s neck and, oh, that’s what that smell is. It’s smoky, like burnt sugar and tobacco, but there’s a sweetness to it too. Whatever it is, whatever cologne Derek is wearing, it works. Because Stiles feels his lungs stop struggling instantly until all he can do is breathe heavy against Derek, limp in his arms.

“His body remembers you.” Someone says, a woman, Stiles guesses it’s Erica. What is that supposed to mean?

“I know.” He feels Derek say against him, breathing easy and holding onto Stiles.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Erica asks, then turns her head and looks at Boyd. “That has to be a good thing.”

“It’s an instinct.” Scott says uncharacteristically. “It’s his safe place, even if he doesn’t know it.”

Derek is whispering into Stiles’ hair, so low and quiet he can’t make out what he’s saying. But for now, it doesn’t matter, because Stiles has had just about enough of today that he’s happy to succumb to the darkness.

Derek is hunched over against the floor, back against the wall of the corridor outside Stiles’ room. His knees are bent and his feet are firmly planted against the floor. Ready to act, if he needs to. Ready to be at Stiles’ side. Stiles, who doesn’t even know who he is. There’s a sharp pain in Derek’s chest, and it radiates to his fingers and toes so much that he has to flex them to maintain the sensation there. It has to be a nightmare. His own special hell created just for him, hurting him in the way he could hurt most.

It’s a surprise when Scott sits down next to him, mirroring his position against the wall. Erica is next, sitting at Derek’s other side and pressing against him. It’s supposed to be a calming gesture, but Derek is far from comforted. He can’t get his mind to _stop._ Boyd is next, but he doesn’t sit, settling for standing across from them and leaning against the opposite wall with his arms folded. There’s a harshness in his eyes, but Derek knows it’s not directed at him. Boyd is hurting, they all are. None of them are doing a good job to hide it anymore.

After what feels like over an hour they have been sitting in silence, Erica lowers her head and rests it against Derek’s shoulder and exhales. He can allow her this. Taking comfort from her Alpha. It’s all he can do to stop from crumbling at the seams and howling into the night sky for the fourth night in a row. Boyd watches her sadly, knowing there’s nothing he can do or say to help her.

Over the next few hours, doctors and nurses give up asking them if they are okay and politely step over and around them whenever they have to pass. Derek is thankful for that, thankful for the steady heartbeat he can hear coming from Stiles, who is fast asleep in the room behind him. A pair of boots stop in front of him where he’s been staring at the floor, and he looks up to see Stiles’ father standing over him. Glowering.

The others seem to notice him before Derek does, because Scott’s already standing and Boyd has pushed himself away from the wall and is standing behind the Sheriff. Derek rises to his feet and readies himself for the row to come.

But it never does. Instead, there’s a firm and strong hand on his shoulder as Sheriff Stilinski looks at him with sad eyes. “How’re you holding up?”

There’s a beat. It’s obvious the others hadn’t expected that either. Scott falters, before motioning for Erica and Boyd to take off. After some hesitation, they disappear down the corridor and presumably outside to blow off some steam like Derek longs to do also.

“Fine.” Derek lies.

“By ‘fine’, he means awful.” Scott corrects him. Stiles’ dad seems convinced, as if he’d expected Derek to lie in the first place. He was always perceptive that way.

“He doesn’t remember me.” Derek’s voice cracks, just a little bit, so small that probably only Scott noticed it.

“I know. I know, kid.” The Sheriff says solemnly. “But the doctor is confident he’ll recover. With some help. He just needs time.”

“And his memory?” Scott asks, leaning forward like he’s aching to hug Stiles’ dad. “Will it come back?”

“They don’t know.” It cuts like a knife right through Derek to hear it. His face obviously doesn’t convey his pain because Stiles’ dad just keeps going. “They said it might and it might not. But physically, he’s going to be fine.”

Derek looks away instantly. Could he live in a world where Stiles didn’t know who he was? Where Stiles didn’t love him? Didn’t want him?

“They’re going to let him out tomorrow.”

Derek’s eyes snap back to Stiles’ dad’s. “He can come home?”

“Well, no.” The Sheriff says slowly, and Derek can feel Scott’s anxiety rolling off him like a wave. “I’m going to take him home with me, Derek.” Sensing Derek’s coming protest, the Sheriff shakes his head. “I don’t want to hear it. He’s my son and he’s coming home with me.”

“Sheriff—” Derek begins, but is surprisingly cut off by Scott. The last person in the world who’d defend him. But he does.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Scott tells him. “He needs to go home to an environment he’s familiar with. Not somewhere new. That’ll only confuse him more.”

“What are you saying?” Stiles’ father looks hurt.

“I’m saying…” Scott looks at Derek, then his gaze hardens and he looks back at the Sheriff. “The only way he’ll recover his memories is if he returns to his routine. It’s the only way he can get better. And Derek will take care of him.”

“Well, I—” Stiles’ father looks like he was about to make some sort of jab at Derek like, _you’re the reason my son is here in the first place_. But he decides against it and sighs, long and heavy and _tired._ “Okay. But if he ever wants to come home, I’m not telling him no.”

“Okay.” Derek says, placing a hand on Scott’s arm and squeezing tightly in gratitude. Scott tenses at first before relaxing into it. He’s starting to feel like Scott’s pack again, but he doesn’t voice it. This would be enough.

“Who’s the president?”

“Obama. You voted for him. Twice.”

“Huh.” Stiles replies, a thoughtful look on his face, before it’s replaced with frustration. He gnaws on his thumbnail like it’s a lifeline and looks out of the window of Derek’s new car. It didn’t take much convincing to get Stiles to come home with him – to _his_ home. The home they share together. Stiles was actually kind of adamant that he did. He wants to recover fully, and he wants his memories back, and Derek couldn’t have been happier to hear it. He keeps the radio off so Stiles won’t be overwhelmed, but after a few minutes of silent driving, Stiles complains and Derek switches it on.

“Do I have a favourite song?” Stiles asks after about twenty minutes, just as they were approaching Derek’s loft. Derek hesitates, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

“I don’t know.” Derek admits, and Stiles looks over at him questioningly. “If you do, you never told me.”

“Why wouldn’t I tell you something like that?” Stiles demands, a bit taken aback. “Music is life, man.”

Derek shakes his head. “We don’t listen to music a lot. Only when we are travelling.”

“What? So, do we talk?”

“Yes.”

“What do we talk about?”

“Everything.” Derek tells him, not risking taking his eyes off the road for a second. He does, however, reach over and turn down the volume of the radio. Stiles whines in protest. “Things married people talk about.”

“Do we have kids?”

“What?” Derek almost flips the car, then winces. “No.”

“If we don’t have kids, then what do married people talk about?” Stiles asks him, like genuinely asks him, and that’s when Derek realizes he doesn’t have an answer. “Really? We don’t listen to music, and we don’t talk. And we’re _married._ ”

“I said we do talk. I can’t think of anything right now when you’re…” Derek sighs. “When you’re putting me on the spot like this.”

“Well, _sorry._ ” Stiles replies grumpily. He manages to stay quiet for a full three minutes before he’s talking again, and Derek has to fight a smile at that. “How long have we been married?”

“Seven months.”

“How long have we been together?”

“Two and a half years.”

“That’s fast.” Stiles comments, then rubs the back of his neck. His fingers brush the scar of Derek’s teeth there and Derek senses it instantly, tensing. But Stiles acts like he doesn’t notice at all. “Why did we get married so fast?”

“We—” Derek starts, then struggles to find the words as they approach the road up to his loft. “It wasn’t fast. You suggested it, actually.”

“I _did?_ Me? Really?” Stiles acts like he doesn’t believe him, but there’s a familiar blush creeping up on his cheeks. “ _I_ proposed to _you._ Wow, past me has more balls than current me.”

Derek laughs, and likes the way Stiles smiles at the sound. “You didn’t propose. I did.”

“But you said I—”

“I said it was your idea.” Derek tells him. “I wanted to. A lot, actually. But you were young, and I didn’t want to pressure you. But when you started talking about it, I knew you were ready.” Stiles goes quiet for a long moment, just as Derek brings the car to a gentle stop and undoes his seatbelt. “We’re here. You need a hand with your seatbelt?”

“No.” Stiles says instantly, panicked, and Derek feels a twinge in his heart. He nods shortly and gets out the car, moving around the back to take Stiles’ bag from the trunk. Stiles is standing against the car door, still open, gaping up at the building they live in. “We live _here?_ ”

“Yes.” Derek says, closing the trunk and moving over to Stiles. Stiles closes the car door finally and raises an eyebrow. “The building is ours.”

“The _entire_ building?” Stiles gapes, and almost flails his arms but seems to fight it. Derek doesn’t like that. “Are you a millionaire?”

“No. Just a werewolf.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

Derek frowns all the way into the building and up the stairs. He opens the loft door with a grunt and slides it across the floor, letting Stiles take a step inside and look the place over. “Does it bother you?”

Stiles spins around in surprise, hands raised as if Derek scared him. “What?”

“Me being a werewolf.” Derek continues, dropping Stiles’ bag onto the floor and sliding the loft door closed. He turns back around to find Stiles still in the same animated position. “Does it bother you?”

“Does it bother me?” Stiles starts laughing, but there’s no real laughter there. Derek watches as he makes his way around the loft, fingertips grazing along the dining table as if he would touch it and all the memories would come back. They don’t, of course, because Derek isn’t that lucky. Finally, Stiles says, “No. It doesn’t bother me, obviously. Of course it doesn’t. I mean, I married you, didn’t I? Obviously it doesn’t bother me. So, yeah.” Stiles minces a lot of his words like he’s struggling to cope with everything and Derek can’t blame him. “I mean, my best friend’s a werewolf, what difference would it make if my husband is too?”

Derek has the intense urge to scoop Stiles up into his arms and shield him from the world, take his pain and breathe him in until everything is whole again. He doesn’t, of course, and nothing is whole. Nothing at all. Derek has forgotten how to be normal with Stiles, spending so long _being_ with him that he isn’t sure how to act when Stiles isn’t _his._ Stiles will always be his, now, but maybe his amnesia could reverse their bond. He’d have to do research on that. He doesn’t want to think about it now.

“Stiles.” Isaac’s voice interrupts Derek’s inner meltdown. The younger man is standing at the doorway to the kitchen, holding a hot pocket in his hand. Obviously he didn’t get the memo. No pack in the loft today, the communication was simple. Derek doesn’t know why he bothers sometimes. Stiles jumps out of his skin, almost literally, crashing into the dining chair to his left. Derek is at his side in an instant, checking the damage. He pushes at Derek’s hands and shoos him away. Right. No touching. Derek had forgotten that easily. He has to find some way to control his instincts around Stiles now.

“Isaac, right?” Stiles asks quietly, and Isaac’s face contorts painfully. The wolf holds out the hot pocket in his hand as a peace offering. Stiles looks like he just won a million dollars.

“Thought you might want something that wasn’t hospital food when you got out.” Isaac says when Stiles steps towards him and takes the hot pocket peace offering. “Had to search forever to find these babies. Derek might as well have had them under lock and key.”

“You’re protective over your food.” Stiles comments, looking at Derek and taking a bite of the pocket, making a pleasant noise when cheese spills out and onto his cheek. He licks the side of his mouth before going in for another bite. “Oh, my god.”

Derek feels like he wants to jump him. And a week ago he would have, and Stiles would have welcomed it. But not now, and Derek feels like he is the one smashing through a windscreen this time.

“I have to be.” Derek tells him, not making a move from where he is standing. “Otherwise they’re all you’d live on.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Stiles says around a mouthful of food, smiling cheerfully at Isaac who laughs. “Life’s too short to be on a diet.”

Derek does nothing but grunt at that.

“This is our bedroom?” Stiles asks it like he’s struggling to get the words out. As if he can’t expect yes to be the answer, that this isn’t his life now. Their bedroom is plain, but perfect for them. Derek allows Stiles to have a desk where he can scatter his papers and highlighters and laptop, and a beanbag chair in the corner so he can fall against it when Derek would tickle him. The walls are grey and their sheets are crimson. Stiles had hung a painting of a wolf on one of the walls one year, just for the shits and giggles. Derek never took it down. “It’s, uh. It’s nice. Actually. Is this mine? The desk.”

“It’s yours.” Derek tells him from where he is leaning against the doorway, giving Stiles his space no matter how much pain it causes him. Stiles touches things around the room like he’s touching them for the first time. And if Derek’s heart wasn’t already broken, it certainly is now. “You work there. Sometimes I’d go out for hours and come back, find you still sitting there.”

“What do I work on?” Stiles asked, sounding small and vulnerable. Derek wishes he could touch Stiles, tell him that only his touch would make him feel better.

“A lot of things. You research werewolves a lot. You write. You take photos, and you edit them there.”

“I take what?” Stiles looks over at him with an eyebrow raised before looking back down at the desk. “I’m a photographer?”

“Yes.” Derek tells him.

“Really? That’s awesome. Like, really awesome. It’s always been a hobby of mine. I was just too embarrassed to tell anyone.” Stiles pauses then. “But I guess I told you.”

“I got you the camera. After that, seemed like nothing would stop you.”

“Until now. Bet you didn’t see that coming, huh? Oops, amnesia, right?” Stiles tries to make light of the situation, but just ends up upsetting Derek. Either he senses it, or he can tell by the look on Derek’s face because he murmurs an apology under his breath. Derek watches him for a while as he scans the bedroom, touching everything he can as if he’s trying to create a mental picture with textures and smells. Derek knows the bedroom smells like them. He doesn’t know if Stiles can still sense that sort of thing now, like he used to, since he doesn’t even recognize he and Derek’s bond anymore. Derek ends up having to close his eyes and turn away. It’s too painful to watch his mate this way. He thought he could handle it – he really did.

“Hey.” Stiles voice sounds from behind him somewhere close, but not close enough to touch, and Derek doesn’t re-open his eyes. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Derek says flatly. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re done here.”

And then he disappears and leaves Stiles to it. He’s only just made his way to the dining table and sat down with his face in his hands when Stiles re-emerges from the room and calls to him. Derek doesn’t respond, can’t. Doesn’t feel like he can speak anymore. It feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside. Dying a slow death, one minute at a time. It’s like he’s lost Stiles forever, like he’s lost to the world. Derek aches to rewind time, time travel and prevent everything from happening. But he can’t and he won’t. Stiles has to figure out his own way and Derek isn’t going to push him. He knows Stiles so well, probably more than Stiles knows himself right now. And he isn’t about to push his luck. _Just be patient with him._ Melissa McCall’s voice rings in his head, the ghost of her soft hand on his shoulder from before when he’d went to pick up Stiles and bring him home.

And he figured Melissa knew best with this sort of thing. Derek didn’t know what he was doing at the best of times, and without Stiles by his side he could feel his control dwindling.

“Hey.”

Derek’s eyes flash blue in alarm before he sees Stiles hesitantly taking a seat in front of him. Stiles doesn’t seem perplexed about Derek’s eyes. In fact, he watches with wonder. Derek clears his throat. “You okay?”

“Do your eyes always do that?” Stiles avoids the question. Derek notices. He settles for resting his chin on his hands and looking over at Stiles across the table. “Flash blue, I mean. I’ve never seen a werewolf with eyes that aren’t gold or red before. Are you, uh. Special or something? Is it an Alpha thing?”

Derek falters. “I’m not special. I’m an Alpha, but my eyes are just…” he trails off and thinks carefully about his answer. He doesn’t want to do Stiles any more damage by revealing the bloody, messed up nightmare that is his history. Instead he sighs and says, “They’re just me.”

“Cool.” Stiles says, seeming to accept that answer. He deliberates for a moment and chews on his bottom lip, eyes towards the loft door. Derek watches him carefully. “So. I guess. We have a lot to talk about.”

Derek straightens. “Where do you want to start?”

“How about—I mean—How did we—” Stiles struggles with his words, as if he can’t believe this is his life. Derek understands the concept. With a frustrated huff, Stiles rests his forearms on the table in front of him and clasps his hands, banging them onto the table like he’s trying to root himself in the moment.

“How about..?” Derek prompts when Stiles doesn’t continue.

“How did we meet?”

Derek pauses and thinks back to a simpler time. Not that it felt simple back then, but compared to now, he realizes how easy it was. Only running from the police, hunters, a free man howling into the night and mentoring a bewildered Scott McCall. “Scott got bit. He came to me for help. I helped him.”

“So we met through Scott?” Stiles asked, and Derek hummed in response. “You, what? You mentored him?”

“Something like that.”

“’Something like that.’” Stiles mimics Derek, and he swears he can see the corners of his lips quirk up. It sparks something in Derek’s heart to see it. “You know, you’re not exactly mentor material if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not?”

“Hell no. You’re like, the worst possible option.” Stiles leans back on the chair he’s sitting on. “For one, you’re terrible at talking. And you’re so— _huge._ ”

Derek’s face contorts. “Huge?”

“Uh. Yeah. Dude, you’re giant.” Stiles tells him, a pink tint on his cheeks now. Derek wishes he could touch it, but settles for listening to Stiles’ heart rate quicken. “Totally terrifying. I bet Scott thought the same.”

“I scare you?” Derek must have looked hurt, he thinks, because Stiles immediately reaches over the table to him before catching himself in the act. He pulls back and looks at his hands as if they’ve betrayed him somehow. Stiles’ body definitely remembers Derek, he was sure of it now. Once Stiles shakes his head, Derek clears his throat. “It wasn’t exactly a great alliance. I needed help, and Scott just happened to be bitten by an Alpha in the area. I needed him as much as he needed me.” Stiles leans forward, interested now. So Derek keeps talking. “The Alpha was trying to take Scott into his pack. He didn’t want it. Neither did I. We tried finding the Alpha, but it was you who found him in the end.”

“Me?” Stiles points at himself in emphasis, looking down at himself as if the idea that his small body could fight off a creature like that was impossible. “What’d you mean, me? I fought an Alpha?”

“No. I was with you when you found him. I protected you.” Derek tells him honestly. Stiles looks him straight in the eye and Derek hears the flutter of his heart. So he keeps on going, hoping Stiles might remember something. “Now he’s with us. His name is Peter.”

“There’s two Alpha’s?”

“No.” Derek grunts, as if the idea offends him. “No. I am the Alpha. Peter is a beta now.”

“Oh.” Stiles seems to mull that over for a moment. “I know Peter?” Derek nods solemnly at him, leaving out the fact that Peter is in fact his uncle. The smaller man nods shortly and bites his lip again. Derek is ready to get up and leave the table if he doesn’t stop _biting_ like that. “So. When we found the Alpha. Were we—you know?”

“No.”

“Okay. So, when did we—you know.” Stiles huffs at himself. “When did we get together?”

“The night after we found the Alpha. I came to your house to make sure you wouldn’t tell your father about me.”

“Why would I wanna do that?”

“Because you…” Derek shifts in his chair uncomfortably, resting his forearms on the table too. “I didn’t trust you. The feeling was mutual.”

Stiles looks at him like he’s grown another head. Derek figures he might as well have. “Why didn’t I trust you?”

“It’s a long story. And not important now.” Derek tells him, which Stiles huffs at but Derek shushes him with a wave of his hand. “We didn’t exactly get along when we first met. Mostly my fault.”

“What did you do to me?”

“What? Nothing.” Derek frowns over at Stiles. “You just thought I was the bad guy. I thought you were, I don’t know. Annoying.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow at that, his eyes moving up to the ceiling as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Not exactly kittens and rainbows, is it? Our love life.”

Derek aches to tell Stiles that he loves him, but he wrestles with it and chokes it back down inside. “Not at the start, no.”

“Now?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but yes. We’re happy.”

“Huh.” Stiles makes a face that Derek can’t figure out. Since when couldn’t Derek figure out what Stiles was thinking? “So, what? What happened? What changed?”

“I got really close to you. Physically.” Stiles raises an eyebrow over at Derek, interested, probably thinking he’s a nutjob. Derek just hopes Stiles can remember researching werewolf mating habits. “And your scent pulled me to you. It was an instinct. You felt it too. And we just… got together.”

“So, we’re mates?”

Derek chokes. “Yes. We are mates.”

“Where did you bite me?”

“On the neck.” Derek tells him, and when Stiles starts feeling around on his neck, Derek points to the back of his own neck to direct him. He feels it the second Stiles’ fingers make contact with the bite marks, trailing his fingertips along them over and over like he’s trying to mentally map them out in his head. If he only remembered, he wouldn’t need to do that, Derek thinks. But he doesn’t voice it. He waits patiently for Stiles to respond. The younger man looks thoughtful as he tilts his head forward to feel at them better, sending a waft of his scent in Derek’s direction without knowing.

“They don’t hurt.” Stiles says like he’s in some sort of trance. “I thought they would. Why didn’t they heal?”

“A bite like that won’t heal. It’s not supposed to.”

“You’d think I’d remember something like that.”

Derek sighs into his hands. He can’t do this. He thought he could but he really, really can’t. He feels a twinge of anger build up inside his chest and he tries desperately to force it back down.

“Woah, hey. I didn’t mean to upset you. This is all just.” Stiles stammers from across the table at Derek. “A lot to take in. Hey, _hey,_ I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what day it is anymore. I don’t know who I _am._ But I’m trying, okay? I’m trying here.”

“Don’t apologise.” Derek tells him from behind his hands, he can’t even bear to look at Stiles now. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s my fault. I should have protected you.”

“Stop right there, big guy.” Stiles snaps, and Derek actually raises his head. “Don’t start that. It isn’t your fault. You might be a big bad wolf but you aren’t psychic. How were you supposed to know what would happen? And another thing, Scott told me you _carried me in your arms_ to the hospital even though it was over ten miles away.” Stiles pauses to take a breath, or to control his breathing, or maybe both. His heart is hammering in his chest and it doesn’t look like he has much control over it. Derek keeps silent. “So don’t _do that._ Don’t say it’s your fault. Because it isn’t. And I don’t know—what you’re doing right now. But stop that too. Okay? I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack.”

“Stiles, I’m not doing anything.”

Stiles looks at him strangely. He sniffs the air, making Derek do it too. But Derek doesn’t smell anything and watches Stiles carefully. “You sure? Because all I can smell is your _grief.”_

Derek’s eyes widen immediately and he places a palm flat on the table across from Stiles. “You can smell my grief?”

“Yes. A lot. Like you took a shower in it. I hate it.”

“What else can you smell?”

“What the hell does it matter what else I can smell, Derek?”

Derek slams his hand on the table with more force than necessary, and it cracks beneath him. Stiles doesn’t seem fazed by his outburst, still breathing heavily in front of him. His nostrils flare at Derek like he’s about to catch on fire. Derek recognises Stiles’ expression immediately. Stiles’ body remembers how to use its senses. “Stiles, focus. What else do you smell?”

“It’s like—I don’t know, it’s like the smell of rain, but worse than that.” Stiles struggles to find the right words and squeezes his eyes closed. “Like what the inside of a tornado smells like. I think. I don’t know. Like I’m caught in a hurricane.”

“Focus on it.” Derek tells him, inching his palm closer to Stiles’ own, which is now plastered on the table to help him keep balance. “Focus. What else?”

“Like. Tobacco leaves. Which is weird because I’ve never smoked in my life. Well, I mean, I tried it once. Didn’t like it so much. It burned my throat, you know? Like—”

“Stiles.”

“Right. Okay, sure. Cool. Focusing.” Stiles is quiet for a long moment and Derek just listens to him breathe, watching his chest rise and fall as he focuses on what he can smell. “It smells like I said. Like a lightning storm, a bad one. But there’s also tobacco. Like someone’s lit a cigarette. And sugar, burnt. Something sweet. I don’t know.”

Derek can’t help himself. He puts his hand over Stiles’. “That’s me. My scent.”

“I can smell you?” Stiles asks, opens his eyes and looks at Derek’s hand over his own. “Like you can smell me?”

“Yes. It’s an instinct. A mate thing.” Derek can’t find the right words, but it doesn’t matter because Stiles isn’t pulling away from him. He actually turns his hand over in Derek’s grasp and grips at his fingers. “You used to be able to do it when I was close. That’s how I know that’s what I smell like to you.”

“I don’t get it. _This_ is what I remember?” Stiles looks appalled at their intertwined fingers. “How to _smell?_ ”

“It happened at the hospital too.” Derek tells him, beaming with joy. “Your body remembers me. Even if your mind doesn’t.”

“Yeah, well.” Stiles moves his hand away from Derek’s, and a frown is on his face. “Would be great if my mind could catch up, thank you.”

“Stiles, this is a good thing. It means—”

“It means nothing, Derek!” Stiles pushes away from the table in anger, and it occurs to Derek that he hasn’t seen Stiles this way in a long time. Angry. “How exactly is this a good thing? I came here trying to find myself again. Not… not smell things!”

“Stiles—”

“Stop saying my name like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like you’d kiss the ground at my feet!”

Derek frowns, hurt. Stiles sighs and flails his arms around like he doesn’t know what to do with them or where to go. Like he’s lost. Derek figures he is. Stiles storms off and into their bedroom and slams the door, leaving Derek alone at the dining table.

**_THEN_ **

****

“I just don’t get it.” Scott said one morning on their way out of class, finally done for the day. He’d been quieter than usual, something that Stiles noticed, but he figured Allison was probably something to do with it. Every major problem recently with Scott always involved Allison. Allison, Allison, Allison. Stiles sent a prayer into the air knowing he wasn’t that bad with Derek.

“What’s not to get, buddy?” Stiles asked, even though he knew what was coming. Because, seriously, Scott? An open book sometimes.

“You and Derek. I just don’t get it. I don’t like it.”

“Nobody’s asking _you_ to be Derek’s mate.” Stiles announced loudly, so loud that Scott actually shot him a look and quickly scanned the people around him for anyone that had heard. Of course nobody had, because everyone had their own high school drama to worry about. Nothing compared to Stiles’ own drama though, since he was thrown into the joyous timeline where werewolves existed and oh, yeah, he was also dating one of them. “What’s not to get?”

“It’s weird.” Scott told him with worry in his eyes. “Even after the day I found out, I fought with him about it. Did he tell you that?”

“Yeah, he did. Said he let you win.”

“He _so_ didn’t let me win, Stiles!”

“Well, then maybe he was just distracted by the make-out session we had before he met you.”

“Ew! Stiles! Don’t.” Scott looked like he’d bitten down into a lemon. “I don’t want to picture that.”

“Well, picture it, Scotty. You’ll probably see it eventually, who am I kidding?” Stiles beamed. To be honest he’d gotten used to the idea of belonging to Derek. And hey, he actually really liked it. More than liked it. He was pretty sure he was already in love with tall, dark and handsome with the eyebrows that could kill. Not that he’d admit it though. “You gonna call in sick for the pack meeting tonight, then?”

“What? No. I’m not.” Scott shook his head and gripped his book bag tighter on his shoulder. “I’m just saying I don’t like the way he looks at you. It gives me the creeps.”

“Kind of like the way you and Allison squawk at each other, you mean?”

“I don’t even know why I bother talking to you about this.”

Stiles laughed as Scott pushed the door open to go outside. “Don’t worry about me, man. Everything’s totally fine. More than fine. Everything’s cool. Everything’s—”

Scott tensed suddenly, halting his stride at the top of the stairs that descended into the parking lot. Stiles crashed into him clumsily with a quiet ‘oof’. He peered over his friend’s shoulder to scan for impending doom, but instead his eyes landed on a very familiar Camaro with an even more familiar figure leaning up against it. Derek had sunglasses on, and smiled with his teeth when he saw Stiles. People were looking at Derek like he’d been on his way to a modelling job and gotten lost or something, but Stiles didn’t care. Because he definitely got to hit that.

“Is he serious?” Scott asked under his breath, but Stiles was sure Derek could hear him anyway. “He’s picking you up? Here? With all these people?”

“What? You think he’s gonna pass up on that opportunity for people to stare at his ass?” Stiles smirked, looking over at Derek who was already shaking his head. “Besides. We’re official now. You’re probably just jealous Allison can’t turn heads like that. Sorry, Scotty. I knew there’d be a day where I became Batman. Was just waiting for my chance.”

“Neither of us are Batman, I already told you!” Scott huffed in response, not making any motion to move down the stairs. People were already pushing past him in a hurry to get out of there. It was the weekend after all.

“Yeah, yeah, tell yourself whatever you want. Later!” Stiles waved at Scott as he descended the stairs and made his way over to Derek. He could feel eyes on him, but he realized it didn’t matter anymore. The second he was close to Derek all of the anxiety of the day fizzled away into nothing and Stiles would have waved it goodbye if Derek hadn’t scooped him up in an embrace as soon as he was near. The Alpha inhaled deep at Stiles’ neck and made a pleased sound. It drove Stiles insane when he done that and Derek knew it. So, he wanted to put on a show, then? Stiles was more than down for that.

“Have a good day?” Derek asked, and the smirk in his voice was so obvious even before he lifted his head to look at Stiles behind his sunglasses. Stiles rolled his eyes and told him to shut up before kissing him like he hadn’t seen him for years. There were a few gasps around them, one of them Stiles could _swear_ he recognized as Scott’s. Derek smirked against Stiles’ lips and freaking _picked him up_ and kissed him back, Stiles’ feet barely touching the ground.

“Hey, get a room!” Jackson’s disgruntled voice made Stiles pull away and flip him the bird. Derek was shaking his head and put Stiles back down firmly onto the tarmac. Jackson rolled his eyes and got into his own car, quietly murmuring to himself. “About damn time, anyway.”

Stiles was about to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean when Derek opened the passenger side door for him. He raised an eyebrow up at the Alpha who was still hidden behind his sunglasses. “You gonna take me to dinner first, big guy?”

“If you want.” Stiles rolled his eyes and climbed into the car, letting Derek close the door behind him. Once Derek got into the driver’s seat, he glanced at Stiles and ordered, “Seatbelt.”

“You’re not gonna wear one!”

“I don’t need one. You do.” Derek’s tone was firm as he pushed his sunglasses down with one hand to give Stiles a look. And just like that, Stiles was already buckling his seatbelt.

_tbc_


	3. Partir en Courant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
>  **Chapter Title Translation:** Partir en Courant - Run Away

**_NOW_ **

Derek doesn’t sleep well that night. The sofa is more uncomfortable than he remembers, not having slept there in a year or so. Since the last time he and Stiles fell asleep there, curled around each other in front of the tv. Derek can’t even remember what they had been watching. He feels like he should. He feels like every moment he shared with Stiles is more sacred than before.

When he does fall asleep, it’s to the sound of Stiles’ steady heartbeat, sleeping soundly in their bed. Derek hopes he feels safe there. He wakes up sometime around ten am. He’d slept right through the night. Weird. He stretches his neck as he pushes up from the sofa and heads for the bathroom, opening the door to his bedroom and—

“Ah! Woah, hey—I mean, hey.”

Derek almost jumps. He really does. He’s still standing with one hand on the doorknob like an idiot, gawking at Stiles who’s apparently in the middle of getting dressed. He’s shirtless, and has one leg in his jeans, the other side being held up by his hand. Derek can’t help but look. It feels like such a long time since he’s seen it.

“Dude, uh.” Stiles starts, then stops, like he’s trying to look absolutely anywhere except at Derek and failing miserably. Derek had slept in his underwear, of course, like he always does. And for whatever reason, Stiles really, _really_ hadn’t expected that. “Knock, maybe?”

“I’m sorry.” Derek says instantly. “It’s a habit. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

“It’s—it’s fine. Really. I’m—uh.” Stiles can’t seem to find any words that work for him and eventually gives up entirely. They stare at each other for a moment before Stiles starts laughing, embarrassed. It makes Derek laugh too. He can sense that he’s had some effect on Stiles, which warms him to his core. So, attraction is still there. Definitely.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Derek tells him simply, enjoying the way Stiles’ face turns a dark crimson, almost matching the colour of the bed sheets. Stiles actually drops his pants leg resulting in them falling down. He scrambles to pick them back up again and ends up wobbling all over the place until he accepts defeat and flops onto the edge of the bed.

“I guess you’re right.” Stiles says, a bit winded. “Some warning might be nice for next time you decide to barge in looking like _that._ ”

“Looking like what?”

Stiles puts his hands over his face and groans loudly, mortified. Derek feels himself grinning. “Like _that._ With the no clothes. And the fact that you have _no clothes._ ” Stiles lifts one hand to peer over at Derek. “Oh, and _you have_ _no clothes._ ”

“Okay. Okay.” Derek holds his hands up in apology, then gestures to the en-suite. “Can I?”

“Yeah! Get out of here with that.” Stiles tells him like he wishes the bed would open up and swallow him whole. It isn’t until they’re sitting at the dining table eating breakfast that Stiles mentions it again. “So. You sleep in your underwear.”

Derek considers his answer before decidedly going with; “Yes.”

“And _I_ sleep in?”

“Pyjamas.”

“Right on.” Stiles snorts into his cereal, and kicks Derek under the table. Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re a dick.”

“So I’ve heard.” Derek smiles behind his coffee cup.

“Oh, yeah? From who?”

“From you.” Derek tells him, and something about it upsets Stiles because he goes back to sulking at his cornflakes. Derek wishes he could fix it, but his mind blanks and all he can do is drink is coffee in silence after that. Once Stiles is finished, he musters up the courage to talk. “Do you want to do anything today?”

“Um. What day is it?” Stiles scans the room for a calendar but can’t find one.

“Wednesday. Why?”

“Oh, really?” Stiles perks up a little bit, but Derek can’t understand why. “Don’t I hang out with Scott on Wednesday’s? Or is that, uh, not a thing anymore?”

“No.” Derek says, then reconsiders. Seeing Scott might actually do him some good. So, he lies instead. “I mean yes. You still hang out with him on a Wednesday.”

“So… I was thinking I might do that.” Stiles looks down at his hands. “I mean, if it’s cool with you. Kind of need to see a familiar face.”

“You don’t have to ask my permission, Stiles.” Derek says honestly, pushing away whatever reservations he has about letting Stiles leave his side. “That’s not how a marriage works.”

“Right.” Stiles nods like he’s considering it, then pushes up from the table and smiles. “I’d better get ready then. Um. Will you show me where I keep my clothes?”

  


Scott beams at Stiles when he sees him coming, enveloping him in a bear-hug the second he’s close enough. Or a wolf-hug. Whatever. Stiles figures it doesn’t really matter because what he needs is some stability right now. And he can get it with Scott. Scott is like Stiles’ lifeline. Even if he looks a bit different from how he remembered him. Scott flashes his arm at Stiles once they start walking into his house, grinning.

“Dude!” Stiles grabs his friend’s arm in shock. “You have a tattoo!”

“Yep!” Scott laughs, showing it off like he never gets the chance to do anymore. “I got it last year. You were there.”

“Really?” Stiles asks as they ascend the stairs and into Scott’s house. It smells familiar, like freshly baked cookies and family and home. Relief washes over him in an instant, and he’s never felt more happy to see Scott in his life. “You let me come?”

“Yep. It turned out to be a bad idea, though, since you fainted as soon as the guy stuck the needle in.”

“That definitely sounds like me.” Stiles beams at Scott, but his friend falters slightly and Stiles sees it. “What?”

“I just… wanted to ask how you are.”

“I’m fine. I’m good. I mean, I’m adjusting.” Stiles tells him honestly, but decides to leave the part out about seeing Derek half naked and _freaking out internally._ “It’s hard, yeah, but it’s—what’s—is that cookies I smell?”

Melissa emerges from the kitchen in that moment with a soft smile on her face, holding a plate of cookies that honestly still have steam coming from them. Stiles has graduated from beaming to _shining._ He’s wolfed down – no pun intended – three cookies before Scott speaks again, this time with his mom next to him. They’ve settled on the sofa in the living room by then. “So… how’s it going at home?”

“What’d you mean?” Stiles asks around a mouthful of cookie. He looks at Melissa in awe. “Seriously—these are amazing.”

“Family recipe.” Melissa assures him, but after Scott rolls his eyes at her she seems to waver. “Okay, fine. The recipe was on the box.”

“I don’t even care. Seriously.” Stiles has another mouthful of cookie by that point, making Melissa laugh but there’s still an edge of _get crumbs all over my floor and you’ll regret it._ But she doesn’t voice it and Stiles already knows the drill. It’s like riding a bike, being here with them. Like he doesn’t need to try hard. It’s natural, easy. Nothing like being with Derek.

“Stiles, as much as I’d like to stay and watch you choke on a cookie, I have to get going. I’ll be home late.” Melissa stands from the sofa after kissing Scott on the cheek. She hesitates before leaning down and kissing the top of Stiles’ head. “Look after each other.”

“We will, mom!” Scott calls after her as she’s leaving. She looks back at them fleetingly before shouting, “And no chewing the sofa!”

Once Melissa is gone, Scott seems to be all business. “Seriously. How are things at home?”

“Why are you so concerned?” Stiles questions him, swallowing the cookie in his mouth loudly.

“Uh, because you hit your head? And you have amnesia? Any of this ringing a bell?” Scott mocks him, knocking on Stiles’ forehead. “Hello? Anybody home?”

“Okay, okay!” Stiles swats his hand away and settles back on the sofa further. “Things are… things are fine.” Scott shoots him a look like _really? Lying to a werewolf?_ And Stiles almost kicks him. “Okay. So not totally fine. I don’t know, man. It’s not like it is over here, over there it’s—it’s different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah, and Derek keeps _looking_ at me like he’s expecting something.”

“Well, he is.” Scott says honestly. “We all are. We want you to regain your memories.”

“I do, too! Trust me, I do.” Stiles tells him, but hesitates and he knows Scott can read him easily. “I don’t know. I think I’m trying too hard. Or maybe I’m not trying enough. Or Derek’s trying too hard. I don’t know. It’s all very confusing.”

“What do you mean he’s trying too hard?” Scott asks suddenly, worry in his eyes. It then occurs to Stiles why the _hell_ his best friend let him marry a werewolf in the first place? But when he asks about it, Scott becomes defensive. “Hey, you are in control of your own life, Stiles! And it’s not like I didn’t try to talk you out of it. But I couldn’t. Once you mate, it’s for life. There’s no fighting that.”

“What if you get hit on the head so hard you forget all about it?”

Scott hesitates, looking away towards his back door. “I don’t know. I mean, I can look it up but it’s not like I was given a manual on how to be a werewolf, you know?”

“I know that. It would just make a lot more sense.” Stiles exhales heavily and rests his feet up on the coffee table, feeling more at home now than he has for days. “I was just thinking since I’ve forgotten about the whole mating thing, it might go away on its own, right?”

Scott looks at him then, whatever had distracted him out in his backyard now a memory. “You want it to go away? I don’t think it works like that, Stiles.”

“You broke up with Allison before.”

“I know, but, Allison and I are not—we’re not _mates_ , Stiles.” Scott looks saddened by the fact, and Stiles feels a pang of sympathy for his friend. “It’s not the same. I wish we were mates, but we’re not. It’s not something I’d want to throw away if I had it.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to throw it away.” Stiles says quietly, looking up the ceiling. His stomach feels unsettled from eating so many cookies, he assumes, but in reality he can feel himself becoming uneasy. A little nauseous, too. “I just thought if the bond would break, then Derek wouldn’t have to look so miserable all the time.”

“Something tells me that wouldn’t even do it.” Scott mutters under his breath, but Stiles manages to catch it. Scott looks surprised at him. “I mean. That’s kind of how Derek is.”

“What? Miserable?” Stiles gapes at him. “All the time?”

“No, that’s not what I’m trying to—” Scott shakes his head, his hair falling over his forehead. He pushes it back with his hand and rests his back against the sofa, angling his body towards Stiles. “Derek has always been like that. That’s just his face. But it never seemed to put you off.”

“Well, it’s certainly off-putting to me _now._ ”

“It is?” Scott sounds alarmed, as if now he’s actually taking Stiles’ questions seriously. “You don’t feel attracted to him?”

“I don’t know what I feel.” Stiles says honestly, thinking back to this morning when Derek had sauntered into the bedroom like he owned the place. Which, okay, fair, he does own the place. But still! Shirtless! Only in his underwear! _Tight_ underwear, at that. And Stiles’ body had definitely reacted to it, but his mind didn’t. He was just overwhelmed by it. “Derek says my body remembers what my mind doesn’t.”

“He’s telling the truth. I saw it for myself.” Scott says, and Stiles looks over at him curiously, prompting him to explain. “When you were in the hospital, your heart rate was a lot lower when Derek was around. When he left to go to the bathroom or something, it was like your body went into panic-mode.”

“Panic-mode? You’re telling me there’s a different type of mode?”

“I’m serious, Stiles.” Scott scolds him. “And then when you had a panic attack the first night you woke up, the only thing that calmed you down was Derek. Just him being there.”

“It was his smell.” Stiles tells him, a bit embarrassed. Scott raises an eyebrow at him. “The way he smelled. I don’t know, and his voice, I guess.” Stiles shrugs like it is all easy for him, but it isn’t. “It was like an aura of safety. I felt like I could breathe again. But I wasn’t comforted by it. Actually, it made me kind of mad.”

“Mad?”

“Yeah, like, why do I have to be so dependent on _one person?_ Is that what my life is gonna be like, Scott?” Stiles closes his eyes. “Never being able to think for myself if Derek isn’t around.”

“You seem to be thinking fine right now. Derek isn’t here.”

And… Scott is right. Stiles’ breathing is fine and he feels fine and content and Derek is nowhere to be seen. Stiles can’t even sense him. Not that he really knows how to, anyway. Annoyed, Stiles rubs a hand over his face. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know. But we’re going to figure it out, okay?” Scott sounds so sincere and earnest and, bless him. Stiles couldn’t have picked a better best friend.

“How’re you going to figure it all out?”

“I have some stuff for you to look at.” Scott tells him and Stiles perks up a bit, sitting up straighter and watching as his friend stretches into his book bag and takes out a brown envelope. “It’s some pictures. Of everyone.”

“Everyone?” Stiles asks, all but snatching the envelope from Scott’s hands and pouring out the contents onto the coffee table. “From when I don’t remember?”

“Yep. I’ll talk you through them.”

And Scott does. They start with the easy stuff, stuff that Stiles can remember. Like the time he actually played lacrosse with the team instead of sitting on a bench. Scott had snapped a photo of him in action and Stiles felt himself grinning down at it. The next couple are pictures of him, and Scott. And some of Allison, too. There’s one of the three of them together.

“Where is Allison?” Stiles asks suddenly, noting her suspicious absence from being plastered to Scott’s side. Scott frowns at Stiles, like he was hoping it wouldn’t come up.

“She’s at home. Her dad…” Scott sighs. “Well, let’s just say he wasn’t the biggest fan of you marrying your mate.”

“What’s that got to do with Allison?”

“He won’t let her near you. That’s why she never came to the hospital. You’re tainted,” Scott uses his fingers for emphasis on _tainted_ , “or something like that. But don’t worry, Allison hates him for it. She’ll end up sneaking out sooner or later, so don’t be surprised when she bursts through your door one night.”

Something about it doesn’t sit right with Stiles. “Did me marrying Derek cause any trouble for you two or something? If her dad won’t let her see me, and you’re always with me.”

“Uh. No, it didn’t.” Scott scratches the back of his head, eyes on the photos in front of him. “Actually, you and me… Well, we didn’t really hang out that much anymore.”

“ _What?_ ” Stiles yells, appalled, dropping the photos in his hands. “Why? Because of Derek?”

“Sort of. I used to be in his pack, you know?” Scott says, but there’s a sadness in his voice that Stiles can’t ignore. “But we had too many disagreements. I left it. I kind of became a lone wolf, so to speak.”

“You’re not pack?”

“I am, sort of. I mean, I can still communicate with the rest of them, but Derek isn’t really my Alpha.” Scott looks like he regrets the decision but he doesn’t tell Stiles why. “He still acts like he is, but I think that’s just out of habit. After I separated from the pack, you and I didn’t really see one another for a while. But it’s done now, because now you’re here.”

“But why? Why separate from the pack?” Stiles asks, flailing his arms around and knocking over some photographs from the coffee table. Scott is in the middle of picking them back up before Stiles starts waving his arms again. “Why would you do that? What did Derek do?”

“Nothing. We just don’t see eye to eye on anything.”

“Like what?”

“Just like training regimes and stuff, ethics, all that. And the fact I’m dating an Argent.” Scott shakes his head and returns his attention to the photographs. “I think about the pack all the time.”

“Derek must’ve been a real asshole if you and I haven’t been hanging out at all.” Stiles notes, looking down at the photos with a frown. “And I must have been a real asshole for choosing him over you.”

“It wasn’t like that. You know you’re not the type of person to do that.” Scott says firmly. “And it’s done now. We’re here now.”

Scott shows him some more photographs after that, but this time Stiles can’t remember any of them being taken. There’s one of him and Scott covered in some kind of glow-paint in a club. Stiles looks absolutely wasted and Scott is laughing at him. Stiles feels like slapping himself in the face to bring the memory back. There’s another one of all of them, the entire pack. He spies himself in the middle sitting between Derek’s legs, who’s perched on the sofa behind him. Derek’s arms are draped over him possessively, and Stiles is grinning. The others are crowded around them. Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Lydia, Jackson and Scott, who looks like he was the one setting the timer on the photo because he looks like he’s rushed into the scene. Stiles touches his own face in the photograph before trailing his fingers along Derek’s.

“We all look happy.” Stiles notes absently. “I look… happy. Derek’s smiling.”

“He does that. Mostly around you.” Scott says, and Stiles glances over at him sadly. “This is before you got married. I think you’d been together just over a year in this, give or take. Because I’m still pack.”

Stiles hums quietly in response. Scott takes the picture from his hands and Stiles feels himself reaching for it back before he catches himself. The next picture is only of him and Derek, with Erica squeezing in at the side of them making a peace sign. Stiles has an arm wrapped around Derek’s shoulders and Derek’s head is thrown back in laughter. Stiles can’t imagine Derek laughing like that, can’t hear the sound of it. His chest suddenly feels hollow. Is that what being a mate is like? Making someone happy like that?

“Hey.” Scott’s voice assaults Stiles’ ears and breaks his train of thought. “Hey, we can stop if this is too overwhelming.”

“No. No, let’s keep going.” Stiles insists and Scott hesitates before nodding.

The next few photographs are a sequence of Isaac and Erica, obviously in some sort of arm wrestle. The next shows Boyd stepping in to stop them. The one after that is an action shot of the table below them breaking in half. The final photo shows Derek standing off to the side, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Stiles almost laughs at that. The next is only of Derek, holding something in between his fingers and looking off camera.

“Is that a joint?”

Scott barks a laugh, as if he’s caught up in the memory that Stiles can’t identify. “Yeah. Jackson got him to try it.”

“I thought werewolves couldn’t get high.” Stiles says absently, staring at the photo in his hands. Derek looks softer somehow, more relaxed.

“We can't really. Or it doesn’t last as long.” Scott shrugs, smiling fondly over at Stiles. “Man, I hope there’s a picture of you on this night. You really couldn’t handle it.”

“Hey—” Stiles attempts to protest that, before Scott flicks through the pictures until he finds one of Stiles hunched over a toilet. Go figure. “I’m only a human!”

“That’s what you kept saying.” Scott laughs and lets Stiles flick through the next few photos. There is a few of Erica trying to get Stiles to drink water and failing. The next is of Derek picking up Stiles and then the one after that shows him passed out on the sofa in Derek’s loft. Huh.

“What—"

“He picked you up and put you on the sofa.” Scott smiles. “He put a blanket over you but I guess no one took a picture of that.”

“Guess not.” Stiles grunted, trying to make sense of it all. How could he have done all this and not remember? The next photograph is of Scott, Stiles and Derek at what looks like a lacrosse match. Stiles is dressed in his lacrosse uniform and so is Scott, and Derek’s wearing a leather jacket. They’re all smiling except for Stiles, who’s kissing Derek’s cheek. Stiles can’t shake the feeling in his stomach, somewhere between panic and nerves. Maybe his body _does_ remember.

“Do you have any of the wedding?” Stiles asks suddenly, and it looks like his question knocks the wind out of Scott. “Of, uh. Derek and I’s wedding.”

“Uh. Yeah, I do. Actually, Lydia recorded the ceremony. I can give you it and you can watch it at home.” Scott tells him hesitantly, before rummaging through the mess of photos on the coffee table and picking out four or five and handing them to Stiles. Stiles inhales deeply before looking down at them. The first one shocks him. He’s on Derek’s back, who’s apparently giving him a piggy-back ride. There’s a bottle of something, maybe champagne, in Stiles’ hand and it’s spilling all over Derek but the Alpha is laughing. Next to them, Scott’s mom is trying to catch the spilled alcohol in her bare hands with a worried look on her face. Scott is on the other side next to Isaac and they’re both laughing too.

“Mom wasn’t supposed to be in this one. Was supposed to be the just us four, but then, you spilled champagne everywhere and well, she’s a mom, so.” Scott smiles a bit, but it seems forced. Stiles can’t take his eyes off of the scene before him. “This is right after the ceremony before the after party. We went to your dad’s house and absolutely trashed it.”

“We _what?_ My dad’s house? Are you serious!” Stiles stammers, ashamed of himself over something he can’t even remember in the first place.

“He said it was okay! He insisted!”

“Seriously.”

Stiles looks at the other photos after that. One is of Lydia and Erica looking pretty in dresses holding flowers. Another is of Derek standing in a tuxedo looking off camera, probably looking more nervous than Stiles was even aware he could be. It looks like he was standing in his loft, but it had been decorated with fairy lights and flowers. Peter stood behind him, just out of focus, smiling like he was beaming with pride. Something in Stiles’ stomach twisted again but it felt like he was in danger.

The final photo Scott gives him is a picture taken from the end of the loft, or end of the aisle, he guesses. Stiles and Derek are in the centre of the frame and they’re _kissing._

“Is this..?”

“When you said ‘I do’.”

“Yeah.” Stiles looks down at the photo and he can’t believe his own eyes. His eyes must be playing tricks on him because Derek is kissing Stiles like it’s his reason for existing, or something. And Stiles thinks his past self looks more than happy about it.

“Hey, are you okay?” Scott asks suddenly, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles is broadcasting his turmoil and he knows it, but he can’t help it. Derek is _kissing_ him in this and Stiles is _letting_ him. Derek is kissing him like he _wants to._ Well, yeah, dumbass. He married Stiles. He obviously wants to kiss him. Stiles rubs at his eyes with his free hand and sighs.

“Yeah, this is just.” Stiles can’t describe it. “A lot.”

“Let’s stop. Let’s not push it, okay? I’ll give you the pictures away with you.” Scott tells him, taking the photograph out of Stiles’ shaking hand. “You can look at them again when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” Stiles says but there isn’t any heart in it.

Scott frowns as he’s putting the photographs back in the envelope. “I’m sorry. I thought this might be good for you, you know? Like jog your memory or something if you actually saw the evidence.”

“No, it’s good. Really.” Stiles tries to reassure him, but it’s more like he needs to reassure himself. “It’s good. Thank you.”

Scott smiles at him sadly. They don’t return to the pictures after that.

  
  
  


The next few weeks follow the same sort of pattern. Stiles avoids Derek like the plague, and if the Alpha is bothered by it, he doesn’t show it. Stiles thought being a mate meant it was difficult to be apart, but it seems like neither of them are perplexed. He is down with that. Honestly, Stiles just can’t bear the looks that Derek had been giving him when he thought he wasn’t paying attention. With those big sad eyes and those _eyebrows._ Like, seriously? What’s the deal with those?

 _That’s just how he looks._ Scott had said that. But honestly, Stiles doesn’t buy it. Not for a second. He had taken the photos from Scott’s house that day and tucked them away in one of the drawers in the bedroom at the loft. Derek apparently accepted that that was _Stiles’_ space and never really went in there anymore. That suits Stiles just fine. That way, if he ever starts to panic, he has somewhere he can go without being influenced by Derek’s _everything._ He wants to deal with things on his own.

Well, sort of. Since he can’t bring himself to watch Lydia’s video of the wedding ceremony. It feels like it’ll make his amnesia even more real. Like he can’t even remember his own wedding. His own mate. Stiles feels useless.

“What time is Derek picking you up, kiddo?” His dad asks, and whatever Stiles had been thinking about is basically flushed down the toilet. He’s slouching on the sofa in his old house – well, _current_ house if you were to ask Stiles – and his dad is sitting in his usual chair with a low calorie beer can in his hand – Stiles’ influence. The tv is on but neither of them are actively watching it.

“Nine, I think.” Stiles shrugs a bit. “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll just wait for him to turn up.”

“How’s he taking it? Derek?” His dad asks, and Stiles might have kissed him for not asking how Stiles was doing. He isn’t sure he’d even be able to give a straight answer.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.” Stiles shrugs again like it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. “S’hard to tell when Derek is feeling _anything._ ”

“He’s always been like that.” His dad tells him, and gee, like Stiles didn’t know that already.

“So I’ve heard.”

“I bumped into Allison yesterday at the store.”

“Really?” Stiles perks up a bit. He sits up on the sofa. “How is she? I haven’t seen her in _forever.”_

The Sherriff doesn’t respond right away, making Stiles suspicious, but then eventually when he does speak his voice is low and controlled. “She was asking about you.”

“Well, I heard from Scott that her dad won’t let her see me.” Stiles is sad about it, really. Allison is pack – or, _was,_ last time he remembered – and it hurt to be apart from her for so long. His dad seems to mull that over for a moment, like he’s really thinking about his answer. Stiles feels uneasy. “Dad, what’s up?”

“Nothing, son.” His dad says after a moment, but Stiles feels like he can see right through him. “You been hanging out with Scott a lot then?”

“Yeah, almost every day. With Lydia too, sometimes. She’s been trying to style my hair.”

“Huh.” His dad places his now empty beer can on the coffee table in front of him and grimaces. “Have you actually spent any time with Derek?”

“I—” Stiles stammers, then furrows his brow because, well, no he hasn’t. “Not really. I mean, he’s always _there._ When I wake up, when I eat, when I go to sleep. So, I mean, I’ve _seen_ him. But I haven’t really—” Stiles waves his hand in the air. “— _seen_ him. If that makes sense.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“No, Derek has barely spoken to me. I think he’s trying to give me space.”

“Why would he want to do that?”

“Uh, because I asked for it, I guess?” Stiles says, and when his dad looks at him like he’s an idiot, he backpedals. “I don’t know! I was just really overwhelmed! Hell, I’m _married_ to the guy who just so happens to be a _werewolf_ and an _Alpha werewolf_ at that! What was I supposed to do?”

His dad is shaking his head before the end of Stiles’ outburst, rubbing his eyes. “I know it’s overwhelming, kid. We all know what you’re going through, but we’re all here to help. And Derek is…” His dad seems to hesitate, like he can’t get the words out. “He’s your husband, Stiles. You need to start talking to him, otherwise you’re never going to get better.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get better!”

“Why would you say something like that?” His dad asks, almost barks, like he’s angry at Stiles now. “It’s not normal, your behaviour in the past month. You’re acting like you don’t even want to be with Derek anymore.”

“I don’t know.” Stiles says honestly, and it just about knocks all the wind out of his dad. Something inside of Stiles feels like it’s breaking but he can’t pinpoint its location. He rubs absently at the back of his neck, at the mark there. “I don’t know what I want.”

“You’re his husband, Stiles.”

“Yeah, I know!” Stiles yells at the ceiling. “So everyone keeps reminding me!”

“Son… it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. This is the furthest from _okay_ anything could ever be. It’s not even in the ballpark of _okay!_ ” Stiles feels himself getting choked up, but he pushes it away and settles for exhaling heavily. They’re quiet for a long moment like his dad has ran out of things to say. Stiles understands the concept, for once, at a loss for words. Eventually he musters up the courage to ask, “Why did you let me marry him?”

“What do you mean ‘let you’?” His dad asks quietly. “It’s not like I had a choice in the matter. I didn’t like it, I’m not going to lie to you.”

“Scott didn’t like it either.”

“Scott doesn’t like anything that isn’t what he wants.” His dad snaps suddenly and Stiles actually jumps a bit from where he is sitting. “Sorry. It’s just, okay, I didn’t like it at first. He was a murder suspect twice. I didn’t want you hanging out with him let alone dating him.”

“Then why?” Stiles asks, eyes wide and on edge in case a vein popped in his dad’s forehead.

But the Sherriff just shakes his head. “I invited Derek over to dinner. There was no way I was letting my son date a guy I hadn’t been properly introduced to.”

“Derek’s had dinner _here? With you?_ ”

“A lot of times. Why is that so surprising?”

“He just doesn’t seem like the type.” Stiles admits. “You know, to have dinner with you. My dad. Socialise. I don’t know.”

“There’s a lot about him that you don’t know, I guess.” His dad tells him, but in a soft voice like he’s walking on eggshells around his son. “And it went well. Not because of Derek, but because of the way I could see you react to him. Like he was the sun and you were the moon. You circled each other all the time, never really touching in front of me. It looked like it pained you, but Derek… Derek was just really unreadable.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“And then I found out about Scott and the whole, turning into a dog thing—”

“Werewolf.” Stiles corrects him absently, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

“Right. Werewolf.” His dad confirms. “And after that it wasn’t difficult to assume Derek was like that too. And that I’d never really understand your bond. But know this, son, I would never let you be with someone who wasn’t good for you.”

“Have you _met_ Derek?” Stiles squeaks, waving a hand in the air in front of himself. “He’s good for me? It’s like we’re opposites!”

“You’re not.”

“We may as well be!” Stiles is getting worked up now and he’s sure his dad sees it, but he doesn’t comment, and, well, thank god for small blessings. “Are you sure you’ve met him, dad? Haven’t you noticed what a downer he is? No sense of humour – poor conversationalist—"

“It doesn’t matter.” His dad says firmly, eyes off to the side behind Stiles’ head. “From a father to his son, you have a really good thing here. Don’t throw it away because you’re scared of what might happen.”

And just then, as if on cue, the doorbell goes. Derek is here to pick him up. Derek spends a lot of time acting like Stiles’ guardian, not his husband. But whatever. The exchange between Derek and Stiles’ dad is difficult to watch. Not because it’s awkward or anything, but it’s like him and Derek have been friends for a long time and it’s really weird to see. His dad puts a reassuring hand on Derek’s shoulder when he’s getting himself ready to leave. Derek doesn’t really say anything, but Stiles can hear his dad speaking in a low voice and curses himself for not having superhero werewolf hearing because he can’t make out a word of it.

Once he’s ready to go, Derek says nothing and simply holds the car door open for him with a blank look on his face. Stiles feels uneasy, wondering if Derek had heard the conversation. Stiles was basically shit talking him behind his back and that couldn’t have felt good. Suddenly, he’s sympathetic and he can’t for the life of him understand _why._ Stupid mating and its stupid side effects. If his heartbeat picks up the pace once Derek gets into the car, the older man doesn’t mention it.

“Have a good day?” He asks, reversing the car and taking off down the road after letting Stiles wave goodbye to his dad through the car window.

“Yeah, really good.” Stiles says honestly, but there’s a hint of a lie in it. The conversation had left him a bit surprised at himself for saying those things. His mouth seems to be independent from his body, then. His mouth definitely doesn’t remember Derek, nor his voice. “Uh. What did you do?”

“I went for groceries.” Derek replies but it sounds stiff.

“Did you get hot pockets?” Stiles asks trying to lighten the mood. Because seriously, the air in here? Suffocating him.

“Yes.”

“Pepperoni? With cheese?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet.” Stiles nods but he doesn’t even bother faking a smile, knowing Derek would see right through it anyway. Derek doesn’t look at him, though, focusing on the road. Because Derek apparently thinks he’s a race car driver or something because all Stiles can see is a blur outside the windows. “Dude. Ease up a bit, maybe?”

“Why?” Derek asks, as if Stiles just asked him to do a handstand. Yeah. Because _that_ would be weird.

“So you don’t kill us, maybe?” Stiles scoffs. “I really can’t handle another case of amnesia. I might lose my mind at that point.”

Derek actually slows down the car after that, and Stiles watches as he flexes his large hands around the steering wheel. Stiles can smell that _smell_ again, and it unnerves him. Like a thunderstorm, and it definitely isn’t coming from outside. Derek is broadcasting. Again.

“Dude.”

“What, Stiles?” Derek snaps.

“Wow.” Stiles raises an eyebrow, but he can feel his pulse hammering in his neck. The mark there starts to burn a bit, and he doesn’t understand it. “Since we ate breakfast together, I know nobody pissed in your cereal this morning. So, what’s with the ice?”

“There is no ice.” Derek tells him, and wow, _liar._ Stiles can feel it clearly, like Derek basically told him to go screw himself. It hurts more than Stiles is willing to accept. Is this what being a mate is like?

“Oh, _really?_ ” Stiles bites back. He doesn’t notice he’s gripping the edge of the seat until his knuckles start screaming in protest. “Because you smell like you’ve been rolling around in a big heap of ‘I hate you’ mixed with some kind of ‘you’re an idiot and I wish I wasn’t here’.” Derek scoffs in response to that but doesn’t say anything, which only riles Stiles up even more. “So, which one is it, then?”

Derek actually seems to consider that for a moment. Then he doesn’t say anything which is worse than anything he could have possibly said. Stiles fumes in silence next to him, having to inhale and exhale steadily despite the _stench_ of grief radiating from Derek and filling the car. Stiles feels like he’s suffocating in it.

“Stiles, calm down.” Derek tells him, his voice softer now. He spares Stiles a quick glance before re-training his eyes on the road.

“Stop using your werewolf mojo to listen to my heart!” Stiles barks. “It’s not fair.”

“You can do it too. You can hear mine.” Derek tells him. “If you try hard enough.”

“Well, I don’t want to! I don’t want to intrude on you like that!” Stiles looks away, out of the window, even though he can still see Derek’s reflection in there. The Alpha looks tense and it looks like his leather jacket might start bursting at the seams any moment. “My heart is private.”

“Not to me.”

“Clearly.”

“Try it.” Derek tells him, and it sounds like an order because Stiles can already feel himself focusing on trying to hear it. “Focus on me. Tell me what you can hear.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing.” Stiles tells him, and it’s kind of an umbrella statement for his life at the moment. “I’m only a human. How am I supposed to hear _your_ heart?”

“Because I’m your mate.” Derek says flatly, like he doesn’t even really know why Stiles is his mate. “Your senses are heightened when you’re with me. Or when I’m close. Trust me.”

Stiles scoffs because, trust Derek? Right. Sure. Why not. He closes his eyes and actually tries it, exerting himself. Nothing happens at first, and all he can hear is the noise of the car engine and the faint noise of the tires on the road beneath them. Suddenly there’s a thump, and it almost scares Stiles out of his skin. It happens again and Stiles tries to focus on it. It sounds like it’s coming from outside at first, like someone is on the roof and he starts to feel uneasy. Without thinking, and without any control over his own limbs, he reaches over and puts his hand on Derek’s forearm. He can feel Derek tense under his fingers. Huh. _Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump._

“Holy shit.” Stiles breathes, mostly to himself, but he can hear the sound of Derek exhaling heavily from his nostrils. It actually works! Stiles can hear his heart! It’s like music to him, and he tries to focus further, his body doing most of the work and his brain trailing along like a sidekick. At some point, Derek must take one hand off the steering wheel and take Stiles’ hand off of his arm and holds it. Their fingers link together on their own accord like they belong there. Stiles feels distracted but he fights it. Something about the skin-on-skin contact actually seems to help him relax more and focus better. Derek must have known that.

“You’re worried.” Stiles hears himself say without even having to think about the words before he says them. He keeps his eyes closed. “Why are you worried?”

Derek doesn’t answer right away, and Stiles can feel the hesitation radiate down to their linked hands. _Ba-dump, ba-dumbump, ba-dump._ “I just am.”

“Vague. Feels like a lie.”

“It’s not a lie. I am worried. About you.” _Ba-dump, ba-dump_.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Telling the truth.” Stiles tells him.

“We’re here.” Derek says, making Stiles open his eyes in confusion. True enough, Derek has parked the car outside the loft and is watching Stiles with curiosity. How long had they been sitting like that for, fingers interlinked? How did Stiles zone out like that?

“Oh. Sorry.” Stiles took his hand back and away from Derek’s. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Derek said, but he kind of looked like Stiles might as well have slapped him in the face.

Once they were inside the loft, he helped Derek put away the groceries from the trunk. Who the hell buys groceries at nine pm, anyway? Derek, apparently. Derek tells him where to put everything, except the hot pockets, which he already knows where they get hidden. Derek looks like he’s about to smile for a second before it disappears into nothing and Stiles feels like putting his head in the cupboard and slamming the door on it. Repeatedly.

Once they’ve settled, Stiles explodes. “That’s it! I can’t take this anymore!”

Derek looks shocked at his sudden outburst, making a move to rise from the sofa and stand up in front of Stiles. “What?”

“You! And your moping!” Stiles yells at him and he can’t control his arms from shaking. “All the time! It’s driving me up the wall!”

“My moping?” Derek asks lowly, still without any ounce of emotion behind his eyes. Stiles feels like he’s about to kick a hole in the floor and dive through it.

“Every day you just _sit_ here and _look at me_ like I’m dead!” Stiles shakes his head. “Well, I’m not dead. I’m right here! And I’m trying, okay?”

“I know you’re not dead, Stiles.” Derek tells him matter of factly. “If you were dead, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I just don’t get it at all!” Stiles flails his arms in front of Derek in emphasis, who looks like he’s about to keel over from the lack of life in his eyes. “Why are we married? Do I put up with you when you’re like this?”

“Like what?” Derek snaps. “Sad?”

“You’re not just sad, you big sourwolf. You’re _moping_ and it’s freaking all the time and it’s—it’s driving me bananas because I can’t figure out how to get you to _stop._ ”

“Sourwolf?” Derek looks like he’s been hit by a bus now. And it’s so unnerving that Stiles actually calms down a tad.

“Yeah, sourwolf. A wolf that’s sour. Lemon faced wolf.” Stiles babbles like he’s trying to lighten the mood or do something, anything, to get rid of that look of terror on Derek’s face. “Grumpy wolf. Sour. You’re sour—like a gummy worm or—”

“I know what it means, Stiles.” Derek says, and Stiles almost erupts with a _then why the hell are you asking!_ before Derek stops him. “You’ve just… you’ve called me that before. When you can’t remember.”

“I’ve what? Really?” Stiles mulls it over and, huh. Maybe his mouth does remember Derek after all. “Well, no wonder. It’s so freaking applicable to you and your _face._ ”

Derek says nothing.

“I just. I can’t do this— _this—_ ” Stiles waves a hand at whatever is between them for emphasis. “—anymore. It’s too hard.”

“Are you leaving me?”

“What? No—I’m—” Stiles stops because he really doesn’t know what he’s doing. Derek is unreadable basically, and it annoys Stiles who’s always been somewhat of an open book. There’s a tensing in the air though, and Stiles just knows all too well it’s about to smell like rain in here. “I’m just. I’m saying I can’t do this. I can’t _be_ with you right now. I think—I think I need to go home. My old home. With my dad. And people I can remember.”

“But, your memories won’t come back any easier that way.” Derek protests, like he’s actually fighting back at Stiles for the first time. Finally. “They might not come back at all if you do that.”

“Would that really be a bad thing?” Stiles asks suddenly, and he can feel tears brimming in his eyes. “I mean, then you wouldn’t be so _sad_ anymore. And I wouldn’t have to sit here and deal with it _knowing_ the reason your face looks like that is because of me!”

“This is your home.” Derek says and honestly he’s starting to look a bit like a deflated balloon from a birthday party he wasn’t even invited to. “But it isn’t a prison. I can’t stop you if you want to go.”

“Are we really even mates?”

“What?” Derek looks shocked and for the first time since they started arguing, his eyes flash blue once, twice, before freaking _glowing_ in front of Stiles.

“It just—we don’t even talk to each other. Sure, there’s some weird werewolf mojo between us but what if I can do that with Scott, too?” Stiles blabbers and feels unsteady on his feet under the glimmer of Derek’s blue, glowing eyes. “And everyone keeps telling me they didn’t like us together. And I don’t even hang out with Scott anymore – my best friend! – because of you! I can’t see Allison because of you and our relationship. What kind of mate would do that?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Derek says, resigned. It becomes apparent to Stiles at that moment – because he can just _feel_ it – that Derek had heard what he had said to his dad. It must have cut through the Alpha like knives because if Stiles squints hard enough, he can see Derek tearing at the seams. Like he’s about to lose his control of himself. Stiles guesses that’s something that is foreign to Derek – that complete and utter loss in control of his life.

“You—I—” Stiles stammers like he’s trying to apologise for his behaviour even if it’s totally justified right now. “ _I’m_ sorry to disappoint _you._ ”

“You could never disappoint me.”

“Yeah. Clearly.” Stills just shakes his head since it’s the only thing he feels like he can do. The back of his neck is _burning_ now, like someone has sliced him up real good back there. He paws at it absently, checking his hand for blood but there isn’t any. “Look. I—I’m going to call my dad to pick me up. And I’ll be—I’ll be out of your hair.”

Derek doesn’t say anything for a long time until Stiles realizes that the Alpha has no intention of responding. He does nothing but _look_ at Stiles. And Stiles can’t handle it any longer. He takes a step back, half expecting Derek to follow him but he doesn’t, then disappears into the bedroom and locks the door.

His dad picks him up an hour after that. But it isn’t after some heavy arguing over the phone about how _Stiles isn’t trying and he’s not allowed to just give up_ and how _this is Stiles’ life and he can damn well do what he wants._ Derek could probably hear the entire conversation. His dad eventually surrenders and brings Stiles into a hug when he picks him up in his squad car. Derek hadn’t followed him downstairs after he left, and Stiles didn’t look back at him. He couldn’t stand to see that sad face any longer.

The drive back to his house is quiet. Uncharacteristically so. The mark on the back of Stiles’ neck has graduated from burning to searing hot _agony_ and he squirms around in his seat the entire journey. When they pull up to the house, though, Scott is sitting on the steps leading up to the front door. He rises to his feet when he sees the car coming. Stiles collapses against him in a hug the second he gets out and Scott returns the embrace. He feels like he’s home.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls.

**_THEN_ **

****

“Stiles.” Derek sounded irritated.

“Yeah, okay, sorry.” Stiles took a step back outside the training circle and pretty much dropped his book bag in the process. Allison’s arm was on his elbow to steady him, and Lydia was next to her. Stiles liked coming to training sessions, sure, because getting to watch Derek kick the pack’s asses? Awesome. But if Derek got hurt? Totally not awesome. He gnawed at his thumb with nerves and watched as Lydia rolled her eyes.

“God, you are so ridiculous!” She told him. She glanced over towards Jackson, who was heaving on the ground under Derek’s form. Jackson slapped Derek once, hard, on the forearm and immediately Derek backed off. Jackson growled in response and jumped to his feet, demanding they go again. “You don’t see me getting all worked up over Jackson getting his ass kicked.”

Jackson gave her a death glare from across the field. Lydia blew him a kiss.

“I get it.” Allison said, her small and delicate voice a welcome change from Lydia’s teasing one. She was playing with her hair with her left hand, twirling it around in her fingers, and her other hand was still holding onto Stiles’ elbow. Like it was keeping her upright. “I worry about Scott, too.”

“Thanks for the confidence, babe.” Scott shouted from far away, having heard her. Allison laughed and shook her head and made a face at Stiles that totally communicated _werewolves, really? With the supersonic hearing?_

“I’m not worried.” Stiles told them both, and at the same time both women made the exact same face at Stiles. Like, yeah, right. Stiles put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I am. But I can’t help it! I mean – look at them!”

Scott could really pick his moments, because he just managed to send Derek crashing to the ground with a loud sound that echoed through the woods. It sounded like thunder. But when Stiles sniffed the air, he couldn’t smell anything. He figured Derek was fine. Or he was totally more than fine and he’d apparently _let_ Scott manhandle him, because he was flipping them over in a second and had a hand at his best friend’s throat. Stiles held his breath until Scott slapped at Derek and croaked, “Okay! Okay! I’m done!”

Derek backed off. Stiles breathed.

“You have to be faster than that.” Derek said calmly, but there was an edge to his voice.

“I’m not an Alpha like you!” Scott snarled.

“You can’t even beat Isaac.” Jackson had his input, of course he did. Stiles would have rolled his eyes if Scott hadn’t been bearing his teeth at Derek. He started to shiver even underneath his hoodie.

“And _you_ can?” Scott barked, then returned his attention back to the Alpha. “You know you’re only like this because Stiles is here.”

“What difference does that make?” Allison whispered to Lydia, who shushed her with her hand.

“It makes him stronger with a mate close by.”

Oh. _Cool._ Stiles was totally helping Derek out simply by _existing._ By breathing the same air as him. He’d never get used to this mate thing. He didn’t want to.

“You’re going to have to fight other betas with mates.” Derek said easily, rolling his shoulders and glancing over a Stiles who so totally hadn’t been staring at the muscles on Derek’s back. “And they’ll be stronger than you. You have to learn how to deal with that.”

Something inside of Scott seemed to snap. He shifted fully, and Stiles bit back a gasp. Allison held onto his arm as if she knew how close Stiles was to running into the circle at them.

“Don’t.” Lydia said firmly from beside Allison. “Let the boys work it out. They’re fighting over you.”

“I don’t need a pissing contest over who gets to protect me!” Stiles barked.

Scott glared over at him from where he stood, heaving and panting in front of Derek. Derek hesitated and one of his ears perked up as if he was trying to locate Stiles’ position without actually looking at him. That’s when Scott pounced on him and Derek was vulnerable to it. His back hit the ground again with a ominous _crack._ Boyd was on Scott in an instant, followed by Erica, and they scrambled to pull their friend off.

“Scott!” Allison shouted from where she stood, and this time it was Stiles who was holding onto her arm to stop her moving. “Stop it!”

Scott seemed to find himself after that, and let himself be manhandled – or wolfhandled, whatever – by Erica and Boyd. Derek didn’t move from where he was laying on the ground wincing. Stiles didn’t stop himself then, moving into the circle so he could get to Derek. Jackson snarled at him as he moved closer but Stiles just told him _shut the hell up, lizard boy_ and Jackson stopped snarling immediately. Stiles kneeled down beside Derek and placed a hand on his bare chest, feeling instantly how his Alpha’s breathing seemed to ease at the touch.

“What the _hell,_ Scott?” Stiles barked up at Scott from where he was kneeling. Scott was kicking some leaves on the ground with his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry.” He grumbled. Stiles knew his heart wasn’t in it and they were _so_ going to talk about this later. Erica’s face was contorted strangely because, oh yeah, pack dynamics. Shared pain. Stiles could feel it too.

“Training is over.” Derek said sternly from where he lay. “Go home.”

“But I didn’t even get to go yet!” Erica complained. Derek pushed himself up from the ground, taking Stiles’ hand off his chest and holding it in his own. “Come on! Just because Scott had a hissy fit doesn’t mean the rest of us should suffer for it.”

“Go home. Now.”

So they did. Without even looking back. Like they didn’t have a choice. Scott though, dumbass that he was, actually hovered at the tree line looking at Stiles sadly. Stiles nodded at him, a simple, _yeah we’re cool, just go before my boyfriend murders you_. And then Scott left with Allison and Lydia following behind him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he would do that.” Stiles said, helping Derek to stand. Not like he needed it but it was the thought that counted, right? “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Derek told him, not letting go of Stiles’ hand and keeping it firmly in his own. “Thanks. For your help.”

“Anytime.” Stiles flashed his teeth at Derek who glanced down at them on impulse before catching himself. “Anything I can do to help, really. I was feeling a bit useless standing over there.”

“You’ll never be useless, Stiles.” Derek told him sincerely. “You heard what Scott said. I’m stronger because of you.”

“It’s just kind of hard to believe, though, right?” Stiles pointed down at himself with his free hand and woah, no more looking down because Derek’s abs were _right there._ “Skinny. Defenceless. Making you stronger? It doesn’t compute.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You love it.”

“A little.” Derek said, and Stiles felt like his chest inflated in heat. Like some kind of hot air balloon. “More than a little.”

“Yeah, uh. Me too, sourwolf.” Stiles patted Derek on the shoulder in the most _no homo_ way possible. He winced at the awkwardness of himself. “I mean. I love it. You. Too.”

“Say it again.” Derek commanded, eyes flashing a light blue in front of him. Stiles exhaled. “Say it properly.”

“Say what?”

“Stiles.”

“Okay! Okay.” Stiles looked over at Derek’s burnt out house to distract himself. “I love you.”

“Again.” Derek told him. Stiles glanced at him in question, but it was totally a terrible idea because Derek had started looking a bit feral then. He was leaning closer to Stiles, arm around his waist pulling him in and, when did his arm even _get_ there? Was Derek really baring his teeth at him?

“I love you?” It came out as more of a question, but Derek didn’t seem to mind. There was a low grumble deep in his chest and it escaped through his mouth and all Stiles could do was kiss him. Stubble scraped at his chin and Derek’s lips were a little crusted with dirt from the earlier training, but Stiles really, _really_ didn’t care. His skin was burning and Derek only added fuel to the fire, really. Not a bad way to go.

“Is this kissing thing ever going to stop?” Stiles squeaked when Derek pulled away to press his nose against Stiles’ neck in an all too familiar gesture. Derek inhaled deeply like that was all he could do. Stiles squirmed against him. “Not having any control over it. Is that gonna stop? Because sometimes I feel like I might die.”

“You’re not going to die.” Derek said against his neck, lips brushing up against his pulse. “Do you want it to stop?”

“No—no.” Stiles stammered. He’d managed to snake a hand in between them and press it against Derek’s chest. “I just don’t need to start having heart attacks or something if I’m not near you for over five minutes.”

“It’ll calm down.” Derek said, but something made Stiles think he didn’t really want it to. Derek’s hands suddenly descended onto Stiles’ ass and, oh my god. “But it won’t go away. Not completely. In time you’ll learn to control it.” Derek chose that moment to _squeeze_ and Stiles just about had a meltdown. “Or not. You’re not the best at self-control.”

“And you are?” Stiles managed, but his voice was so absolutely embarrassing he felt like running and hiding behind a tree forever. It was more of a squeak than a voice, like some kind of disgruntled chipmunk.

“Better than you.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Maybe.” Derek actually agreed. Stiles couldn’t even see straight anymore, and now he was hearing things? Derek _agreeing_ with him? Nope. This was definitely a dream. A really good dream – a really good one. One that he’d have to change the sheets for after he’d woken up. “You were distracting me on the field.”

“I was?” Stiles totally couldn’t believe that. Derek was continuing his assault on Stiles’ neck and it was obviously some kind of tactic to make him lose his mind and, holy shit, it was working. He felt the Alpha’s teeth sink into the delicate skin and a grunt escaped his mouth before he could stop it. So, that self-control thing? Turns out Stiles had none of it.

Derek hummed against Stiles’ skin, grip tightening painfully on his behind. It felt like Derek was restraining himself a lot, all of his muscles tensing and untensing rhythmically against Stiles’ body. Stiles wondered, why the hell? Why? When they were already bound to one other? What was the need for restraint at this point, really?

“You’re distracting. Except when you want to be. Then you’re just annoying.”

Boner killer.

“And here I thought you were telling me you loved me a second ago.” Stiles scoffed against Derek, making a move to push him away. Derek wasn’t having it though, solid as a rock against Stiles. He did, however, peel his mouth from Stiles’ neck to look him in the eye. “Wow. Blue.”

“Yeah.” Derek agreed but there was a tightness in his voice. Like he was fighting something. Stiles really wished he wouldn’t fight it. His eyes were glowing like some kind of… glowing thing. Stiles couldn’t really think anymore.

“I think we should kiss now.” Stiles told him.

“Yeah.” Derek breathed, as if it was the only word left in his vocabulary, and proceeded to slam his lips against Stiles like it was the most urgent thing in the world. No, like the world would end if they didn’t kiss _right now._ Stiles groaned into it, being flooded with all sorts of smells and senses that drove him over the edge. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and pulled him as close as he could. Derek’s tongue was in his mouth after that, battling with Stiles’ inexperienced one. Stubble rubbed against Stiles’ chin and it burned but he didn’t care, as long as Derek didn’t stop.

Derek’s hands were massaging Stiles’ ass and, jesus, he really needed to never stop doing that. Stiles dragged his nails down Derek’s back to his shoulder blades and then dug his nails in there, surely leaving indents. Derek growled into their kiss and tilted his head to get a better angle. Stiles was leaning back, spine arched up and pressing his body against Derek who was pushing at him with great strength.

He could feel Derek’s muscles tensing against him, as if he was about to lose control. Stiles ran his tongue along the other man’s teeth, now elongated, but it didn’t scare him. If anything it made him want Derek more. Like he really needed his hands all over him, like, right now.

“Stiles.” Derek managed against his lips, strangled and panting heavily. His breathing sounded like growling, his hands gripping Stiles’ behind like it was a lifeline. “Stop.”

“Can’t.” Stiles breathed and captured Derek’s lips again. Derek returned it for a moment, taking Stiles’ bottom lip between his teeth. But it didn’t last long before Derek was telling him to stop again. “Why?” Stiles asked, eyes half lidded and panting.

“I can’t keep myself under control.” Derek told him, but it was like his brain and his body were on two different wavelengths because he proceeded to lick at Stiles’ jaw and scrape his teeth along it. Stiles moved his neck to encourage him. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop pushing me.” Derek decided that was an adequate time to suck a bruise into the side of Stiles’ neck. Stiles couldn’t see anything but stars after that. Admiring his work, Derek kissed the bruise there and pulled back and hummed like he was pleased with himself. Stiles took it as an invitation to return the favour. Derek was none the wiser to it, and Stiles saw the opportunity as plain as day as he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into Derek’s neck and sucked the skin there.

A loud grumble started in Derek’s chest and he started clawing at Stiles’ clothed back, but it didn’t hurt. Stiles was beginning to think it was impossible for the Alpha to hurt him now. Derek’s head fell back a fraction, like he was surrendering, and Stiles bit him _hard._

“Stiles, don’t.” Derek growled again, this time craning his neck away from reach and putting both of his hands on the side of Stiles’ face. He crashed their lips together and kissed the air right out of Stiles’ lungs.

“You say that, then you go and kiss the hell out of me.” Stiles says once he’s able to breathe again. “It’s one or the other.”

“Believe me, I _want_ to do a lot more to you.” Derek told him, but now his eyes were fizzling back to normal like he had regained some control over himself. “I thought I could control myself. I was wrong.”

“You? Wrong?” Stiles joked. “Doesn’t sound like something you’d actually admit.”

“I could hurt you.”

“Maybe I want you to."

“Stiles.” Derek sighed and decidedly didn’t continue. He pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ forehead and inhaled at the skin there.

“Derek. I’m ready.” Stiles told him, like he knew exactly what Derek meant. _The deal isn’t exactly sealed,_ Derek had said before. Well, Stiles was sure as hell ready to seal it right here and now.

Derek pulled back and scanned Stiles eyes like he was a lunatic, but Stiles stood his ground proudly. He hadn’t felt like this before. Not ever. And even if it was the magic mate pheromones talking, Stiles knew what he wanted. He’d probably want it even if Derek hadn’t made the first move. He’d kinda wondered what it’d be like to kiss Derek since he first looked at him, to be honest.

“Stiles—”

“Derek.”

“I really could hurt you.” Derek told him with a sad look in his eyes. Stiles wanted to kiss it away.

“You won’t.”

Turns out, Derek didn’t really need any more convincing because then he was kissing Stiles again, but this time with _intent._ Like he wasn’t holding it back anymore. And it was, holy hell, so much better than before. Derek scooped Stiles into his arms like a freaking bride and jogged all the way to the house.


	4. Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
>  **Chapter Title Translation:** Instinct - Instinct (doh)

**_NOW_ **

****

Stiles is starting to feel like Stiles again, and it’s a fact that pleases him greatly. He ends up getting his hair cut but not _too_ short, having gotten used to its length by now. And it’s nearing winter and he doesn’t want to sacrifice his ears to the wind chill. He’s settled into his old room in no time, papers and highlighters scattered across his old desk. College applications. After everything, Stiles can’t bring himself to pick up his camera. Especially knowing that Derek had bought it for him. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it. He’d rather make his dad proud and study for the FBI like he always wanted him to.

So he keeps the camera far away. He tucks it into his book bag and lets it live there. Sometimes during the night, it feels like the camera is staring at him. Judging him. And at first Stiles pushes it away and blames his anxiety. Then he starts feeling it with his wedding ring, too. He had taken it off not too long ago, last week, and every night he’d come to bed and it’d be on his nightstand _staring_ at him.

And then the dreams too. Stiles begins to have weirdly vivid half-dreams of himself standing in a thunderstorm. He doesn’t think too much of it until it happens a couple of nights in a row. Then it starts nagging at him, kind of like the scars on the back of his neck nag at him from time to time. He doesn’t know what it means. He hasn’t seen or spoken to Derek in two weeks now. It bothers him a bit, like he’d treaded all over the Alpha’s life and made a mess behind after he left.

But it’s easy to forget when he’s with his friends again. It’s late in the evening when they enter a small convenience store in town, searching for _something,_ anything to feed them. Scott has a weird case of the munchies after Lydia had suggested they smoke pot. And Stiles had obliged too.

“Man, I’m starving!” Scott slurs through his words, grabbing the first thing he sees when they enter the store and eating it.

“Hey, you need to pay for that.” A disgruntled employee says from behind the till. Stiles nods reassuringly, but he can’t stop laughing.

“We will, we will.” He tells her. Because for some reason everything is so funny.

“I wonder if they have breath mints here.” Lydia says out loud as if she doesn’t even know what she’s talking about. Erica snorts at her.

“I think you need more than a breath mint, honey. More like a shower.”

“I had a lovely shower this morning, thank you.”

“Details?” Stiles teases, because hey, he’ll take the action if he can get it. Lydia smiles and gets up all close and personal to Stiles, tapping her small button nose at him before disappearing around the corner of an aisle. Erica raises an eyebrow and follows her.

“Dude!” Scott slaps Stiles across the chest like he’s made the biggest scientific discovery of his lifetime. But it’s kind of hard to take him seriously when he’s got a mouthful of Oreos. “She was totally flirting with you!”

“Yeah?” Stiles thinks about it, but ends up getting distracted. “Hey, twizzlers.”

“Dude!” Scott slaps him in the chest again. “She is totally.”

“So what?” Stiles asks around a mouthful of the best twizzler he’s ever tasted. “She’s with Jackson. And I’m damaged goods.”

Scott shakes his head suddenly, moving to peer around the aisle and watch as Erica and Lydia bicker over something. He motions for Stiles to look too, so he does. And he ends up popping his head under Scott’s arm and watching the two of them. Man, Scott really smells like pot. Does he smell like that too? Because, gross.

“She and Jackson broke up ages ago.” Scott says from above Stiles, biting into a candy bar. He gets crumbs in Stiles’ hair.

“Dude, look out!” Stiles shakes the chocolate out of his hair and leans back to a standing position. “Why’d they break up?”

“I don’t know. I think Jackson found somebody better.”

“Better than _Lydia Martin_? Who is she?”

“He.” Scott corrects him.

“Oh. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Me neither.”

Stiles considers it for a second. He hasn’t given any thought into dating, considering he’s married to Derek and all. Derek, who hasn’t even tried to contact him once since Stiles left him. Or more, abandoned him. That would be more appropriate. Stiles feels guilty about it, but his neck has finally stopped aching all the time. It’s still there, like a nagging ache, and every now and then it hurts like it’s burning. But mostly he can ignore it.

“So what about you two?” Scott asks. “Or are you still working things out with Derek?”

“Derek hasn’t talked to me in weeks.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“I—no.” Stiles admits, a mouthful of twizzler and a stomach full of shame.

“Maybe you should.”

“Yeah.” Stiles says absently, watching Lydia from the end of the aisle. “Maybe I should.”

“I love you, man.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me it about a hundred times since I had to pick your high werewolf ass up and carry you for the past ten blocks.” Stiles is grumpy. His high has worn off now and he’s only focused on getting home. Scott is stumbling against him, one of Stiles’ shoulders supporting his weight. Well, not all of it, because Scott is seriously a tank.

“I do, though. I’m so glad you came back.”

“Never went anywhere, Scotty.” Stiles tells him with an eye roll. He can just see the McCall house coming into view up the street. “Not much longer. We’ll get you tucked in and get some cucumbers on those eyes. Be better in no time.”

Scott hiccups. Like actually hiccups. “No! I mean. I’m glad you’re not angry with me anymore.”

“Why the hell would I be angry with you?”

Scott doesn’t really say anything in response, except trying to shrug his shoulders and _dude, trying to hold you up here!_ “Sorry. I’m just glad some of your memories didn’t come back.”

Stiles screeches to a halt. Scott falls against him in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re here!”

“I was always here, Scott. You’re high and you don’t know what you’re saying.” Stiles resumes trying to pull his friend along, but Scott doesn’t seem to be finished. Stiles squints up at the street light above him and asks whoever’s listening why he picked such a lightweight werewolf for a best friend. Okay, so not maybe a lightweight. Scott had smoked a lot more than the rest of them. He said it was necessary otherwise he wouldn’t feel it.

“I do. I’m so glad, Stiles.” Scott tells him, and Stiles makes a lot of noises in response like he’s in the worst situation in his life. “You were so angry.”

“Scott, what are you talking about?”

“I mean, before. With Derek.”

“Derek? I was angry at Derek?” Stiles huffs. “Because that really wouldn’t surprise me at this point.”

“No. You were angry with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I chose—wrong.” Scott slurs the last part and Stiles can’t really make out the rest of the sentence. But it irks him, none the less. Yeah, sure, Scott is high as a kite and he’s pretty sure can probably hear colours. But he always has a habit of blabbing everyone’s darkest secrets when he’s drunk. Or high. Or intoxicated in any way. Or if it’s a Tuesday.

“Chose what?” Stiles tries to prompt him, but obviously Scott has moved on from talking and is about to fall asleep against Stiles. He manages to get his friend tucked into bed with his dignity more or less still intact. There might be some weird touching going on when he tries to get Scott’s jeans off so he can sleep more comfortably. But he isn’t about to tell Scott about that. He sneaks out of Scott’s bedroom window and lands on the ground with an _oof._

Then almost jumps about five feet in the air because there’s Derek standing at the end of the path leading to Scott’s house. He looks exactly the same, standing with his feet far apart and his hands in his jacket pocket. There’s a lot more stubble on his cheeks than before. And just, how is that fair, exactly?

“You know,” Stiles begins once he’s composed himself and makes his way to Derek, “you really outta stop sneaking up on people like that. Kind of doesn’t leave anything to the imagination, you know? Like you being a werewolf. Not that big a jump from creepy stalker to werewolf.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at him and Stiles can see the street light reflecting in his eyes and turning them slightly blue. The mark on his neck starts to burn immediately, and he feels like he wants to reach out and touch the Alpha but he fights it. Instead, coming to a stop in front of Derek, he puts his hands into his jeans and sulks.

“Were you smoking pot?”

 _Well, hello to you too._ “Yeah. Lydia’s idea.”

“Right.” Derek doesn’t seem pleased about it at all, but he doesn’t scold Stiles. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine. I didn’t smoke a lot. I saw some pictures from before, where we’d done it. Kinda learned my lesson from them.” Stiles tells him honestly, feeling nervous by the way Derek is looking at him. “Thank god for small blessings, right? Can’t remember throwing up that night.”

“I remember. I had to carry you to the sofa.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Derek asks suddenly, perking up as if he’s happy about something. Stiles hates himself just a little but knowing he has to stomp on Derek’s emotions like this.

“I don’t remember. I mean, I just saw the pictures.”

“Oh.” Derek looks away then across the road like he’s scowling at the trees so they’ll pick a fight with him. “How’s Scott?”

Stiles looks up at his friend’s bedroom window for a second and sighs. “He’ll live.”

“He never could handle it very well. He talks a big game, and then ends up like that.” Derek tells him, surprisingly informative. Stiles doesn’t want to interrupt him. “Jackson made me try it at the loft. I only agreed to do it if it meant my pack would stay within those walls in case they started rampaging the town’s food supply.”

“I’m guessing a house of werewolves with a case of the munchies isn’t the prettiest thing in the world.” Stiles says, trying to imagine it. He feels a bit like Derek is more at ease than he was before. Like he’s talking to Stiles like an actual human being instead of a mate. He…kind of likes it, actually.

“It was a disaster. Isaac and Erica snapped our dining table in half. Boyd almost lost an eye. And you, well, I guess you know. I didn’t feel like an Alpha. I felt like a babysitter.”

“I bet Scott tried to eat something he shouldn’t have, right?”

Derek nods, smiling a bit at the trees ahead. “He bit off a corner on one of our cupboards in the kitchen.”

“ _That’s_ how that happened?” Stiles starts laughing, remembering the broken door in the loft very well. He’d been a bit apprehensive asking about it, since he figured it’d just make Derek sad or something. Or _more_ sad. “Are you kidding?”

“I wish I was.” Derek looks at him then, a smile on his face. Stiles feels himself smile back. “I wanted to fix it, but you didn’t want me to. You said he deserved to see it every time he came over so you could see the look on his face.”

Stiles throws his head back in laughter and Derek looks at him like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. “That really sounds like me.” Stiles pauses then, looking away from Derek and down the street towards his house. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Derek asks.

“For making me laugh about something I can’t even remember.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you want to walk with me?” Stiles asks, looking back at Derek. Derek looks confused. “To the house, I mean.”

Derek nods immediately. Like he was waiting for Stiles to ask, like he’d known Stiles would ask him. They walk together silently, Stiles’ hands at his sides and Derek’s still firmly planted in his pockets. It feels…weirdly normal. Like he’s walked this way with Derek before.

“Have you walked me home before?” Stiles asks.

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Stiles grunts in response. He’s having the weirdest déjà vu right now.

“Why?”

“No reason. It just felt familiar, is all.” Stiles offers, and to his relief Derek doesn’t press the issue further. They don’t speak again until they stop outside Stiles’ house. All the lights are out and Stiles figures his dad probably gave up waiting for him and went to bed. He doesn’t even know what time it is. Derek is looking up at Stiles’ house quietly, as if he’s concentrating.

“Your dad is sleeping.” He tells Stiles as if it wasn’t obvious.

“I guessed. The lights are off.”

“Doesn’t he work late on Tuesdays?” Derek asks. And, oh, of course he knows his dad’s schedule. Right. Okay.

“Yeah but he has today off. The station has been taking it easy on him after everything, you know? Like hey, your son was in a car accident, take a holiday.” Stiles waves his arms like he’s animated. Like a cartoon. Derek nods shortly at that, before furrowing his eyebrows. Stiles watches carefully, like the Alpha is about to say something. After an awkward minute and a half, Stiles ends up blurting something out just to fill the silence. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just…I guess I got tired of not seeing you.” Derek tells him, as if he’s admitting to Stiles something terrible. Derek translation: I missed you. Totally.

“Oh.” Stiles says and feels terrible about it. His chest aches like he’s falling apart inside.

“I wanted to ask you something, actually.” Derek says, and Stiles looks up at him. Derek’s eyes are darker now, no light in them.

“Yeah?” Stiles says as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Shoot.”

“I wanted to ask if you’d like to go on a date with me.”

Stiles feels like somebody has slapped him hard in the face. And if that isn’t enough, Derek is looking down at him and he looks so _innocent_ and _hopeful_ and Stiles just feels himself raise his hand to touch the Alpha. He touches Derek’s shoulder through his jacket. The leather is cold but he knows Derek is warm underneath. He doesn’t react to Stiles’ touch, thankfully, because Stiles doesn’t think he can handle Derek’s hand on him right now.

“A date? With you?” Stiles spurts out. Derek nods slowly at him, probably wondering if he’d said it wrong or something. He starts looking down at Stiles’ hand on his shoulder. “But we’re married.”

“Married people can go on dates.”

“I guess they can.” Stiles says quietly.

“Stiles.” Derek gets his attention then, standing up straighter. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I—”

“So let me show you.” Derek asks. And all Stiles can do is nod at him. Derek smiles then, flashing his teeth and _god, seriously?_ This guy. That face. Couldn’t be real. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Stiles has to clear his throat. “Yeah, okay. Yeah. I’m not doing anything tomorrow.”

Derek tuts like he’s just realized something. “It’s Wednesday tomorrow. You’ll be with Scott.”

“I’ll get out of it.” Stiles says instantly, then backpedals, embarrassed. “I mean, he’ll probably be too rough to hang out with me anyway. And I just saw him tonight, so.”

There’s that smile again. Stiles curses silently up at the sky. “Okay, tomorrow then. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“What’s at six?” Stiles asks, battling with his hand to let Derek go. He manages, barely, returning his hand to his side.

“See you tomorrow, Stiles.” Derek says, then hesitates. After a moment, he holds his hand out to Stiles in a friendly gesture. Stiles looks at him like he’s a maniac. Because, shaking hands? Really? That’s the best he can come up with?

But, no. Well, okay. Probably he’s used to kissing Stiles goodbye, or just not saying goodbye at all. Okay, Stiles thinks as he takes Derek’s hand and shakes it gently. It sends an electric current all the way up his arm and into his shoulder. He can feel his eye begin to twitch. What the hell is going on with his body?

“See you.” Stiles says, and then Derek lets him go and walks away. Stiles may or may not watch him go, waiting until he’s disappeared into the darkness before rubbing the back of his neck.

“A date.”

“Yes.”

“With Derek.”

“Yep.”

“Your husband.”

“ _Dad_.”

Sheriff Stilinksi raises his hands up in defeat. “Okay, sorry. It’s just a surprise considering you didn’t want anything to do with him a week ago.”

Stiles scoffs as he tries to straighten the shirt he’s wearing. It’s unbuttoned at the collar and Stiles still feels like he’s choking. And his hair is just _not_ playing the game he wants it to today. And he’s sweating like an ape. Stiles may or may not be nervous. His dad is sympathetic at least, standing behind him still dressed in his work uniform. The sun is setting outside and there’s a soft orange glow coming in from the window of the living room.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to say no.” Stiles says honestly, turning and looking at his dad like he’s a kid again and wants to get his hair tousled.

“It’s good, kid. It’s really good.” His dad tells him, reaching out to straighten Stiles’ collar. “You’ll be fine. Just let him do the talking.” Stiles barks at his father, who seems to reconsider. “Okay, don’t. You do the talking. Just talk to him, that’s all you have to do. And you’re good at talking.”

“I’m good at talking to people I know!” Stiles whines. “I don’t even know what to talk to him about.”

“Well, he told you he wants to show you who he is, right? So let him. The rest of it will just come naturally.” His dad, bless him, actually sounds confident. “You managed it before. You’ll do it again.”

Stiles manages to breathe a little after that. He could do this. Totally. It’s just a date – a date with _Derek. Derek Hale._ Totally fine, everything is totally fine. He rubs at the back of his neck, his collar rubbing at the mark there. He’d researched what the hell the deal is with that. Turns out if two mates are apart for a long time, the mark starts to burn. Like his body is rejecting it. Well, that’s if what google said was true. There was another article telling Stiles he was about to turn into a werewolf, so there’s that.

A big wave of anxiety? Meet Stiles.

“I don’t know about this anymore.” He tells his dad, but at that moment a white light assaults his vision as it seeps through the windows facing the front of his house. Headlights. Is Derek serious? Is he one of those guys who wanna flash their LED headlights the first chance they gets? Because, seriously, boner killer. His dad looks around and pats Stiles on the shoulder.

“Too late to back out now.”

“Yeah.” Stiles tells him but there isn’t really anything he can do except watch through the window as Derek gets out of his car. He’s wearing his usual sidekick leather jacket, but he’s wearing a white shirt underneath and a freaking black _tie_. And suddenly Stiles feels ridiculously underdressed.

His dad moves to open the door, despite Stiles’ flailing arms of protest, and greets the Alpha once he ascends the steps of the house with a surprised look on his face.

“Stiles saw you coming.” His dad tells him. And, really? Like Stiles’ face could get any redder.

“Did he now?” Derek asks, shaking the Sheriff’s hand but his eyes are glued to Stiles. Stiles gives him a small and awkward wave and lifts his shoulders up higher so maybe his head could disappear into them.

“So, where are you taking my son this evening?” His dad asks, making a face at Stiles who’s still standing there like some sort of uncomfortable and unfinished statue.

“To dinner.” Derek tells him like everything’s so disgustingly normal and _domestic._ Which, jesus, it isn’t. “I’ll make sure he’s back here by eleven.”

Stiles frowns as he listens to Derek trip over his words like he’d originally intended to say _I’ll make sure he’s_ home _by eleven._ Because this isn’t really Stiles’ home to Derek.

“Don’t worry about it.” His dad tells him, because there is obviously some other way Stiles’ own father can betray him. “I have to go back in and I’ll probably be working all night. Just make sure he has a good time.”

“I will, sir.” Derek says, and Stiles thinks it’s just a little bit adorable. Derek gestures with his head towards the door. “You ready?”

“What?” Stiles stammers. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

His dad pats him on the back on the way out the door and Stiles takes a deep breath when they leave the house. He can’t smell any grief on Derek anymore. Just the sweet smell toasted marshmallows with the bitterness of tobacco leaves. And something else he can’t really identify. It bugs him so much he actually blurts out, “Are you wearing cologne?”, once they’re in the car.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“You’ve never worn it before.” Stiles accuses him, waving a hand in front of his face. Derek is sitting still next to him, hands on the steering wheel like he’s cool as a cucumber. He doesn’t even know where they’re going, but it doesn’t really matter.

“I’ve worn cologne before, Stiles.” Derek tells him, then glances over at him. “Why are you saying that?”

“Because you smell different.” Aaaaand that’s out of Stiles’ mouth before he can control it.

“So do you.”

“Really?” Stiles asks him because he’s curious about it. “What do I smell like?”

Derek’s shoulders tense a bit and Stiles can see it happen. “Normally? Or just now.”

“Just now—no, normally. What do I smell like normally?”

He’s bracing himself for Derek to say he smells like _heaven_ or something else just as ridiculous and embarrassing. But Derek’s response definitely isn’t that. “Like oak wood.”

“Uh, gross.”

“No.” Derek shakes his head immediately, like Stiles has offended him. And probably he kind of did. “It’s not.” Then Derek seems to sniff the air a bit, and Stiles feels heat in his cheeks like he’s blushing. “It’s like oak wood burning in a fireplace. And freshly cut grass. And twizzlers.”

“Twizzlers?” Stiles squeaks, and Derek laughs quietly and nods. “That’s awesome. The best candy ever.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased about it.”

“Totally.” Stiles says, because as weird as this conversation is, it’s actually a little relieving that he doesn’t smell bad. “So. Uh. Where are we going?”

Derek hesitates, glancing over at Stiles before returning his attention to the road. “It’s a surprise.”

Stiles doesn’t respond to that right away, because a surprise from Derek could really range from a box of chocolates to a midnight run up a tree or something. And Stiles really doesn’t feel like being an extra in the Twilight movie tonight. “Will I like it?”

“You did before.”

“Before?”

Derek mhm’s at him. “We’ve done it before. I thought I’d show you some things we used to do. I thought that might make this easier for you.”

Stiles feels his heart swell inside his chest, filling his lungs with hot air. If Derek were to touch him, he’s sure he’d pop. He can’t really focus on the Alpha’s eyes since they’re trained to the road ahead, flashing blue with every street light they pass. Stiles looks down at his own hands, fidgeting with his seatbelt and wishing, _wishing,_ that’d he’d had the damn thing on before everything in his life got messed up. If he could only remember, none of this would be happening. And Derek wouldn’t be so sad.

“If it’s a bad idea, I can take you home.” Derek says from beside him, slowing down the car as if he’s sensed Stiles’ discontent.

“No!” Stiles barks, then calms himself down after the Alpha flinches away from him. A werewolf flinching from _Stiles._ That’s really a new one. “No, I—No, I’d really. Like that. I ‘d like that.”

Derek is silent for a while, nothing but his harsh breathing to remind Stiles he’s still there next to him. “Good. Because we’re here.”

Stiles looks out of the windscreen and nothing but water is staring back at him. “What?”

“We’re here.” Derek tells him, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“What’d you mean ‘we’re here’?” Stiles gapes, gesturing at the body of water ahead of them. Derek must have cut into a clearing without Stiles noticing, too busy studying the pattern on the fabric of the seatbelt. “Are you joking or are you just really thirsty?”

“Stiles.”

“Okay!” Stiles rolls his eyes, but still. A lake? What gives? “I thought you were taking me to dinner.”

“I am.” And just like that Derek gets out of the car. What. Stiles scrambles to unbuckle himself from his Camaro prison and throw himself out of the car. He closes the door behind him so abruptly that his shirt gets stuck in it and he’s thrown backwards with a surprised squeak. Once he dislodges himself and closes the door again, he watches his dignity fall onto the ground at his feet and scurry away.

Derek pokes his head out from where he’s been rummaging around in the trunk of his car. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Stiles lies, crossing his arms over his chest and shivering at the cold air. “What’re you doing?”

Derek emerges with a brown paper bag in his arms, resting on top of what looks like two blankets. He looks at Stiles strangely as he closes the trunk and makes his way around the car. Stiles just gapes at him and struggles to believe his eyes. Derek starts unrolling one of the blankets – tartan – and placing it on the hood of his car. He puts the brown bag somewhere in the middle and offers the other blanket to Stiles. “Wear this.”

“What?”

“You’re cold.” Derek tells him. “You’re shivering. Put it around yourself.”

So Stiles does. Derek climbs up and onto the hood of his own car like it’s nothing, resting his weight on one of his hands as he rummages through the brown bag and gestures with his head for Stiles to hop up next to him. Stiles considers it, before clumsily climbing onto the other side. He’s close enough to Derek that he can actually feel the body heat radiating off of him, and it’s really comforting. Huffing, Stiles clutches the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks, like he’s not really sure what the answer is going to be. “I hope you’ve got a heater in there.”

“I don’t get cold.” Derek grunts at him, and oh, fine, okay. So it’s like that, is it? Then he pulls out what looks like a toasted sandwich. There’s still steam coming off it as if Derek had just cooked it five minutes ago. Stiles sniffs a bit.

“A pizza sub!” Stiles beams, taking it from Derek’s hands. “Oh my _god,_ this is the best sandwich _ever_!”

“So you claim.” Derek says, sounding grumpy, but when Stiles looks over at him he’s actually smiling. He takes out another sandwich for himself and straightens his back. He has one leg outstretched in front of him, one bent at the knee with his boot pressing against the blanket. He doesn’t seem to need an arm to support himself now. Stupid werewolves.

“So…” Stiles prompts, watching as Derek unwraps the sandwich in front of him and takes a bite. Stiles fidgets with the packaging of his own. “ _This_ is where you’re taking me to dinner?”

“Yes.” Derek says with his mouth full. He’s looking over at the water, prompting Stiles to look too. It’s actually… really nice. The moon is barely poking through the clouds, and the sun is setting. There’s an orange hue over them, and it’s really relaxing. After a while, Stiles chows down on his sandwich and makes the most inappropriate noises. Derek doesn’t really say anything about it, though. Thankfully.

“This is the best sandwich I’ve ever had in my life.” Stiles says out loud, not really to anyone in particular. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it.” Derek says, and Stiles is pretty sure his eyes must turn into hearts for a second because suddenly the Alpha’s eyes flash blue at him.

“ _You?_ ” Stiles barks, and he may or may not spit out a tiny piece of bread in the process. “You. Made this?”

“Is it really that hard to believe?” Derek asks as he scrunches up a napkin in his hands, seemingly already inhaled his food. Stiles shakes his head.

“No, as long as you never stop making ‘em.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Derek replies. Stiles thinks the Alpha is actually trying to avoid looking at him. Which is weird because when Stiles was still living at the loft, that’s all Derek ever did. Stare at him. With those big, sad puppy eyes. It drove Stiles through the roof. Well, really it drove Stiles back to his dad’s house, but still. After he’s eaten, he clears his throat.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks. “You’re quiet today. I mean, more quiet than normal.”

“Yes.” Derek says.

Suddenly, Stiles’ dad’s voice is in his head telling him he should be the one doing all the talking. So he does. “Are you sure? Because, you know you can’t really lie to me. I mean, not very well anyway. Okay, better than I can lie to you—”

“Stiles.” Derek shushes him. “I’m as fine as I can be. Let’s leave it there for tonight.”

“Okay.” Stiles says, and he’s a bit thankful. Last thing he needs to hear is how miserable he’s made Derek. “So, we used to sit here then?”

“Yes. Kind of a tradition.” Derek tells him, eyes still trained on the sunset above. “Every full moon, we’d come here.”

“Why every full moon?”

“No reason.” Derek lies, and Stiles can feel it. But he doesn’t really want to ask why. Derek doesn’t really give him a chance to, anyway. “How have you been?”

“Me?” Stiles asks, and Derek shoots him a look like _yes, you, you idiot._ And, well, can’t really argue with that. “I’ve been good. I’ve been hanging out with Scott a lot, but I guess you already know that. And Lydia and Erica. I haven’t seen Boyd or Isaac though.”

“They’re at my loft.” Derek tells him. Stiles raises an eyebrow at him curiously. “For personal reasons.”

“Personal reasons you wanna share?”

“Not mine to share.” Derek says, then hesitates before saying, “Sorry.”

“It’s cool.” Stiles says, tucking his knees up to his chest and wrapping the blanket around them too. “At least. I mean. I’m glad they’re keeping you company.”

“Boyd is.” Derek says, looking over at Stiles properly for what feels like the first time tonight. There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes, but for some reason, Stiles doesn’t think it’s about him. “Isaac, not so much.”

“You two are fighting?”

“Not really.” Derek sighs. “We’re not really doing anything. We’re ignoring each other.”

“Why?” Stiles asks, curious now. He can feel himself edging closer to Derek like it’s an instinct, but he doesn’t really try to fight it. “Is that even allowed? Can he really ignore his own Alpha?”

“Apparently.” Derek shifts a bit beside him, like he’s trying to distance himself from Stiles.

“Maybe Isaac should start hanging out with Allison.” Stiles says. “They’re both good at ignoring people.”

Derek tenses visibly in response. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I’ve not seen or heard from Allison since I got out of the hospital.” Stiles tells him warily, like he’s cautious of annoying Derek. He’s a little annoyed himself. “And, last time I checked, she was one of my best friends. And Scott’s girlfriend.”

“Have you asked Scott about it?” Derek asks, but it sounds like he doesn’t really want to know. So Stiles kind of avoids the question, leaning away from him.

“Ah, he just said some stuff that didn’t really make sense to me.” Stiles waves his hand dismissively. “Like always.”

“I’m glad we agree on one thing.”

“That’s my best friend.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”

Stiles huffs in response. 

“You ready for dessert?” Derek asks after a while, looking over at Stiles. He half expects the Alpha to suggest some kind of making out for dessert, and he swallows audibly. Derek reaches into the bag and pulls out what looks like… a box of chocolates. Stiles starts laughing and Derek looks at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Stiles shakes his head. “We’re gonna eat these?”

“Not so fast.” Derek warns him, then opens the box and shows Stiles. They look really expensive. And delicious. But there’s nothing telling him what they are.

“How’re we supposed to know what’s inside them?” He asks, and Derek grins at him. With his teeth. And Stiles can’t take his eyes away from Derek’s mouth no matter how hard he tries.

“We don’t.” Derek tells him, like he’s hyper aware of Stiles’ staring. “It’s like a roulette.”

“A chocolate Russian roulette?” Stiles asks, then narrows his eyes. “Is one of them poisoned?”

“What?” Derek’s face falls flat. “No.”

“Dude, I was kidding. Give them to me.” Stiles huffs out a humourless laugh and takes the box from the Alpha. He inhales deeply, and hey there’s that toasted marshmallow smell again. “Okay, here we go.”

Derek watches as Stiles picks a chocolate at random and puts the entire thing in his mouth. There’s a quiet second where neither of them really move, Stiles chewing. Then his nose scrunches up in distaste and he puts a hand over his mouth.

Derek is smiling. “Don’t like that one?”

“I do _not_ like this one.” Stiles manages, gagging once he’s swallowed it down. It tastes like coffee liqueur. He sneaks his hand into the bag and takes out a bottle of water, chugging it as soon as it’s open. Derek laughs and leans forward, making Stiles freeze. But the Alpha does nothing but reach into the chocolate box and pick one and hold it out to Stiles.

“Here. I think you like this one.”

Stiles trusts him. He takes the chocolate and pops it into his mouth and chews. It explodes with some kind of caramel mousse and he makes an appreciative sound, smiling with his mouth full.

“Better?”

“Much better.” Stiles beams, feeling like he’s actually enjoying himself. He spins the box around towards Derek. “Okay. Your turn.”

It continues like that for a while. And Stiles gets to watch Derek actually have to spit one out over the edge of the car, looking embarrassed. But Stiles just ends up dying laughing at the look on his face and offering him his water. Derek chugs down basically the whole bottle and Stiles watches his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He gets his revenge eventually, though, because Stiles accidentally picks a chocolate that must be some kind of liquorice and almost has a meltdown. Derek throws his head back laughing at that, and once Stiles has composed himself, he feels like his brain explodes at the sight.

Something flashes across his eyes, like some sort of vision of Derek laughing that way inside his loft. Erica squishes in beside him and sticks her tongue out, making a peace sign with her fingers. Then there’s a flash and it’s gone. Stiles is left feeling breathless.

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice is loud then, as Stiles blinks himself back to reality. Derek is hovering over him from where he’s apparently laying against the car’s windscreen. There’s concern in the Alpha’s eyes, and a strong hand against his chest. It helps him focus.

“Yeah.” Stiles clears his throat, looking up at Derek. He kind of looks like a shadow now, the sun having set. Nothing but the moon light illuminates them. It’s like they’re in their own world, but it’s a world Stiles can’t remember. “I’m fine. Sorry, I guess I just had too much sugar.”

“You’re not fine. Your heart is racing.” Derek tells him, making no motion to move and keeping his hand placed firmly against Stiles’ chest. “Just. Let me.”

And Stiles lets him. Let’s him calm Stiles down just by pressing his hand there. It’s kind of amazing, really, but also really weird. Stiles’ body doesn’t seem to agree though. In a few minutes he can feel his heart return to its normal rhythm but even then Derek doesn’t remove his hand, and Stiles just allows it. Out of some kind of obligation, or guilt, and some part of him actually wants him to do it. His neck, though, starts nagging at him and he whines.

Derek lets go immediately like Stiles has yelled at him. The burning sensation at the back of Stiles’ neck eases up slightly, but then comes back ten times worse.

“Sorry.” Derek says. “I just… knew it would help.”

“It’s fine.” Stiles says weakly, propping himself up on his elbows and looking over at a very guilty looking wolf. “Seriously. It’s okay.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Just felt like I was in a dream for a second.” Stiles lies, and Derek knows it, but again he doesn’t press. Stiles feels like if it were anyone else he might kiss him. But he’s afraid if he kisses Derek he won’t be able to stop. Mate dynamics and all that. And also because it scares him a bit.

“Maybe I should take you home.” Derek shifts and makes a move to hop off the bonnet, but Stiles grabs his arm.

“No, don’t. I’m fine, really. Look.” Stiles sits up then, keeping his hand on Derek’s forearm. “I’m fine.”

Derek furrows his eyebrows over at Stiles and after a long moment, nods shortly.

“So tell me.” Stiles asks after sitting in silence for a while. Derek is looking up at the moon. “What do we—I mean, what did we do—I mean—ugh.”

“What’s next, you mean?”

“Yes, thank you.” Stiles looks down and realizes his hand on Derek’s arm is still there. He removes it immediately in embarrassment. “Do we just look at the water?”

“Well… no.” Derek starts taking off his jacket, then his tie, placing them on the bonnet beside him. Then he starts unbuttoning his shirt and, _woah._

“Uh!” Stiles exclaims. “I’m not—uh! We’re not—”

“Relax. It’s not what you’re thinking.” Derek tells him, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and sliding it off his shoulders. Derek is huge. Bigger than Scott – way bigger. Must be an Alpha thing. Stiles feels his mouth water. And, what the hell, body? “We’re going in.”

“Uh, no I am definitely not!”

“It’s tradition.” Derek tells him, hopping off the bonnet and undoing his jeans.

“Dude! What did we talk about?” Stiles puts a hand up to shield his eyes.

“I figured that rule only applied in the loft.” Derek says, and it sounds like he’s grinning. Stiles groans and ignores all the signals his body is giving him. “Come on.” Derek says. “We haven’t done it this month yet.”

Stiles considers it for a long minute, slowly lowering his hand and watching Derek undress himself. He keeps his underwear on, though, thank god. Then he’s just _looking_ at Stiles. And Stiles throws his hands up in the air, knocking the blanket off his shoulders in the process. He unbuttons his shirt halfway and then pulls it over his head. He hops down and kicks off his shoes and socks, and makes quick work of his jeans before sprinting past Derek.

“Wait!” Derek calls after him, but there’s no way Stiles is coming back now. He can’t look at Derek’s reaction to him half naked again. He can’t handle the embarrassment. Because, seriously? Has Derek seen himself? Has he seen Stiles? Why would he ever want to be with this scrawny body, anyway?

The water is freaking freezing as soon as Stiles jumps into it. He starts flailing and yelling and tries to climb his way back to shore. But apparently Derek isn’t having it. He grabs Stiles by the waist and drags him back in, submerging them both into the water. Stiles is shivering from head to toe, but he’s laughing and splashing at Derek like he’s a kid. Derek shakes the water off of his head like a dog, shooting a look at Stiles. It’s nothing except hilarious, really.

Derek looks paler under the moonlight. Stiles can see the circles around his eyes, and the worry lines creasing his forehead better in this light. It makes him frown. It’s as if it isn’t only the water making him feel cold. Derek looks like he’s aged over the past few weeks, which is interesting since Stiles is pretty sure being a werewolf slows the ageing process. He wonders if being a mate does the same, but he doesn’t ask because really, he doesn’t want to know. The Alpha watches Stiles paddle for a while, laughing every time Stiles swallows salt water and flails around. Eventually, after what feels like weeks, Derek touches Stiles.

It’s nothing, really. It’s more like a brush of skin, and could have passed as accidental. It happens once they are closer to the shallow side of the lake and Derek’s leg brushes against Stiles’ own. The Alpha’s skin is basically on fire, it feels like. Stiles’ body melts, and suddenly he finds his hand on Derek’s chest, both feet firmly planted on the bottom of the lake. Derek inhales deeply and Stiles feels the rise and fall of his chest under his hand. Something about the moonlight makes it all feel okay, like it’s normal. Like he’s allowed to do this.

Derek doesn’t seem like he needs more than a second to consider because then his arm is around Stiles’ waist. He pulls Stiles against his body and holds him there. It feels like Derek is inhaling against the side of Stiles’ head, and okay, fine, he’ll allow that. He actually tries doing it too. He sniffs cautiously at the front of Derek’s shoulder where his face is resting, and he has to close his eyes. Burnt marshmallow, tobacco and chocolate milkshake. That’s what it smells like. It sounds ridiculous but he can’t even make it up at this point. It’s like a drug. Derek wasn’t kidding. Derek’s scent travels all the way to Stiles’ fingers and toes, ascending back up to his chest. There’s a warmth at his neck but it’s comforting now, nothing like it’s usual burning.

“You’re shivering.” Derek says quietly from somewhere near Stiles left ear.

“I’m not cold.” Stiles tells him honestly, because Derek is like a portable heater. Suddenly Derek leans back to look at Stiles. His eyes are glowing a bright blue and Stiles feels his breath catch in his throat.

But then it’s gone and Derek is pulling away and climbing out of the lake. Stiles takes a moment to collect himself before scrambling out after him. He grabs his blanket from the bonnet of the car whilst Derek is gathering things back up. They both get back into the car and Stiles starts shivering, this time actually because he’s freezing to _death._ He wraps the blanket around his shoulders and huffs. Derek discards his own blanket and the trash into his back seat and then starts the ignition, turning on the heat.

“Oh my god.” Stiles breathes, shaking, but he’s not sure if it’s because his hands are icicles or because of what just happened between them. He’s sure it’s a bit of both. “I can’t feel my fingers. I can’t feel them!”

Derek is still dripping wet, sitting in his underwear in the driver’s seat. His body is angled towards Stiles and he’s looking at him like he’s focusing really hard. Then, he takes Stiles’ hands in his own like he’s protecting them, leans in and starts blowing. Hot air hits Stiles’ fingertips and it’s almost like his shivering subsides really quickly after that. He can’t stop staring at Derek. The Alpha is looking back at him from where he is positioned, slightly slouching so he can breathe into Stiles’ hands to heat them up.

“Thank you.” Stiles blurts out, but it sounds more panicked than he intends it to. Derek blinks at him slowly, like he’s not willing to pull back and speak the words. “I mean. Not just for this. For tonight.”

Derek squeezes Stiles’ hands inside his own. Stiles thinks, yeah, Derek is totally and 100% his husband. Nobody else would do this for him.

It’s nearly one in the morning when Derek pulls up to Stiles’ dad’s house. There aren’t any lights on, but his dad’s squad car is in the driveway. Stiles looks at it curiously, shifting in his seat.

“He’s supposed to be working tonight.”

“He lied.” Derek tells him, and Stiles turns to look at him. “I guess he was more worried than he wanted you to know.”

“Huh. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Derek just shrugs at him, keeping his eyes trained on Stiles. So… tonight wasn’t a total disaster. It was actually… really nice. Good. Good nice. The kind of nice that makes Stiles’ neck tingle. He looks back up at his house, then back to Derek, who’s starting to look a bit sad.

“Do you want to come in?” Stiles blurts out before he realizes what he’s saying. Derek looks just as surprised to hear it. Stiles collects himself after a minute, looking down to fidget with his shirt. He’s pretty much dry now and thankful he didn’t go for a swim in his clothes. He’d have a hard time explaining that one to his father, that’s for sure. “I mean. If you want.”

Derek turns off the ignition and leans back in his seat. He looks up at Stiles’ house like he’s concentrating and then says. “Your dad is still awake.”

“Oh.” Stiles sounds a bit disappointed at that. He can’t exactly bring Derek home at one in the morning, can he? _Can_ he?

“I can use the bedroom window.” Derek says suddenly, and Stiles raises at eyebrow at him.

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve done that before?”

“Because I have.”

“Right.” Stiles nods softly, upset by the fact he can’t remember. Then, he starts to psyche himself up. “Okay. I’ll go in and… something. You do… that. And. I’ll see you in there?”

Derek nods quietly back at Stiles and there’s this weird look in his eye that Stiles can’t place. Instead of trying, he undoes his seatbelt and gets out the car. He flails his arms at Derek, gesturing that he should get rid of the car in case his dad looks out the window. Derek seems to understand at least, because he’s already turning on the ignition and driving away by the time Stiles stops waving his arms. He feels like a teenager sneaking a date into his bedroom. Which, okay, apart from the teenage part, this is exactly that.

He really tries not to make any noise when he enters the house. He really does. But the sleeve of his shirt gets caught on the front door and he ends up staggering and almost knocking over the fern at the front door. He steadies it instantly and grimaces, looking up the stairs and holding his breath.

“Son? That you?”

Stiles sighs dramatically. “Yeah, dad! Just redecorating the hall!” Stiles’ dad appears at the top of the stairs, looking extremely tired in his pyjamas. Stiles feels a pang of sympathy in his heart at the sight. He lets go of the fern he’s still holding and makes his way up the stairs. “Dad, why are you still up? It’s late.”

“I was thinking about you all night.” His dad tells him, and, bless him. “Are you okay? How did it go, son?”

“It was good.” Stiles tells him honestly. His dad’s face brightens so he keeps going. “Really good. It was good.”

“Good.” His dad laughs and smacks Stiles’ shoulder in a total dad gesture. “Glad to hear it. So..?”

“So what?”

“So… is there anything there?” His dad asks him, and Stiles suddenly can’t remember how to speak. “I’m not asking if you’re ready to be married to him again or anything. I’m just asking if you feel any better about it.”

Stiles clears his throat. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Okay.” His dad says, and then yawns, and Stiles ushers him off to bed for the night. He’s just managed to open his bedroom door when he spies Derek sitting at his desk as quiet as a mouse in complete darkness. The Alpha has his hand on a few of the papers laying messily across it, and Stiles barely has time to close the door before Derek is speaking.

“You’re applying to college?”

“Dude!” Stiles hisses. “Quiet!”

“He’s already asleep.” Derek tells him, not reacting in any way to Stiles’ scolding. His back is still to Stiles and his attention is on the college application in front of him. Stiles plops down onto his bed, suddenly feeling under pressure as he runs his hand through his hair.

“Still. Keep your voice down.” It’s bad enough Stiles is home so late, without his dad knowing there’s a werewolf in his room. Though he kind of gets the impression his dad is used to that by now. “Yeah, I was thinking about it, you know?”

“This one is in Washington.” Derek says flatly. Stiles nods, before feeling self-conscious and standing up. He flails around and gathers up the papers on his desk, leaning over Derek and trying to ignore the way the Alpha closes his eyes at the closeness of it all.

“Yeah, I’m keeping my options open.” Stiles says. “They have a—a really good academy over there.”

“FBI?”

“Yeah.” Stiles nods and escapes with the papers in his hands, he shoves them under his bed and sits back down on it again, huffing out a breath. He wants to go to college, sure, but he hasn’t really had the chance to apply yet. Keeping his options open. He can’t stay in Beacon Hills forever, right? He looks at Derek sitting across from him, silent and brooding. “So.”

“So?” Derek prompts when Stiles doesn’t continue.

“I was wondering if we could practice that mate thing again.” Stiles says, but when Derek’s face contorts in response, Stiles stumbles over himself. “I mean, listening to your heartbeat! Get your mind out of the gutter!”

“Who’s being loud now?” Derek smirks over at him, and Stiles clamps his mouth shut and puts his hands over it in horror. After a few beats, Derek says. “You didn’t wake him.”

“That saves me a conversation I really don’t want to be having.” Stiles sighs and lowers his voice close to a whisper, even though he knows he doesn’t really need to. He knows Derek will warn him if his dad wakes up with his superhero Alpha hearing. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Derek pushes himself out of Stiles’ desk chair and sits down next to him. Their knees touch, and Stiles thinks his bed is too small all of a sudden. Derek hadn’t put his jacket or tie back on, only his dress shirt. And with the way the moonlight is shining through Stiles’ window, he can see it’s actually a bit see-through. Derek just keeps making it harder and harder for Stiles to battle against his own body, doesn’t he? Not that it’s necessarily sexual. But it’s like a deep yearning to touch him.

Like some sort of mind reader, Derek holds out his hand, palm facing the ceiling. Stiles stares at it dumbly, before Derek raises his eyebrows at him. Stiles scoffs and puts his hand over Derek’s, and the Alpha rests them both on Stiles’ knee. “Focus.” Derek tells him, and Stiles closes his eyes. “And listen.”

And, just like before, Stiles feels himself doing as Derek says. Like he’s compelled to. He wonders what else Derek can make him do, but quickly forces that thought aside. It takes a minute, but then Stiles can hear a rustling coming from outside. Leaves swaying in the wind, the creak of the street light swaying back and forth a fraction. And then, _ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump._

“Awesome.” Stiles breathes.

“Yeah.” _Ba-dumbump. Ba-dumbump._

Stiles opens his eyes to find Derek watching him. “You okay?”

“Yes.” _Ba-dumbump._

“Really? You’re going to lie to me _now?_ ”

“Stiles.” _Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

“Tell me the sky is green.” Stiles commands, and Derek scoffs.

“The sky is green.” _Ba-dumbump._

“Ha!” Stiles beams at Derek, like woah! He actually has super powers! “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.” _Ba-dump._ Derek furrows his eyebrows at Stiles, like he doesn’t want to play. But, screw that, because Stiles is basically a human lie detector right now. “What are you doing?”

“I’m asking you stuff.” Stiles says, then Derek frowns. “If you want, you can ask me something too. Like that game everyone plays in high school.”

“What game?” Derek asks, like actually _asks_ , like he’s never played a game with anyone in his entire life. It just makes Stiles _sad_.

“Seriously? Like twenty questions?” Stiles croaks out and Derek just shakes his head at him. _Ba-dumbump. Ba-dumbump._ Huh. Okay, he’s about to change that. “It works like this: I ask you something, you ask me something. That’s it.”

“That doesn’t sound like a game.” Derek says. “It sounds like talking.”

“Okay, so it’s a _talking_ game. Come on.” Stiles begs, and eventually Derek caves. Stiles keeps it simple at first, just listening to Derek’s heart and trying to get a feel for it. It seems like Derek doesn’t even need to concentrate to tune into Stiles’ own heartbeat, probably since he’s had years of practise. Simple questions like what their favourite food is, what they like to watch on tv, that sort of thing. Derek asks the same questions back to Stiles at first. “Dude, you have to think of your own questions. You can’t keep stealing mine.”

“Right.” Derek frowns, then it looks like he actually thinks long and hard about it. “Do you like living with your father?”

“Yeah, it’s nice, you know?” Stiles tells him, because it’s the truth. “Like I’m a kid again. But it has its disadvantages.”

“What kind of disadvantages?”

“Dude, it isn’t your turn. No freebies.” Stiles protests, but then Derek gives him this _look_ and, jesus. “Okay, fine. I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like a screw up or something. Since I returned to the nest.”

Derek tightens his hold on Stiles’ hand, and Stiles looks down at their interlinked fingers in his lap. “You haven’t. You were in a car accident, Stiles.”

“I know. Sometimes I just feel like I’m not supposed to be here, you know?” Stiles admits, keeping his gaze locked on their hands. Absently, Stiles rubs his thumb over Derek’s. “Like this wasn’t supposed to be my life.”

“I’m sorry.” Derek says, but it sounds like the words are choking him because his voice is really quiet. “It’s my fault.”

“Nope. It’s not. Don’t start with that.” Stiles glares at him. “Unless you want me to storm out of my own bedroom.”

Derek doesn’t say anything in response, and instead looks at Stiles and waits. Oh. Questions, yeah. Right.

“Um. Do you have a dad?” Stiles asks, then shakes his head. “I mean, I know you have one. Because, biology. But you’ve never mentioned him. You’ve actually never—I mean, I don’t know anything about your family.” Stiles hesitates before adding, “Anymore, at least.”

Derek is quiet for a long moment. _Ba-dumbump. Ba-dump. Ba-dumbump._ “You haven’t met any of my family except my sister, Cora.”

“Why?” And immediately Stiles regrets asking because it sounds like Derek’s heart goes into overdrive.

“They’re not around anymore.” _Ba-dumbump. Ba-dumbumdump. Ba-dumbump._

“Hey.” Stiles reaches over with his free hand and puts it on Derek’s knee. “It’s okay.”

Derek’s nostrils flare and he looks like he’s about to get up and leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he closes his eyes and breathes. Stiles listens to it, watching as Derek’s chest rises and falls. _Ba-dumbump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

“Sorry.” Stiles says quietly. “I didn’t know. I mean—you know. I don’t know.”

“It’s fine.” Derek tells him, and Stiles understands why he lies.

“What’s Cora like?” Stiles asks attempting to lighten the mood.

“Small.” Derek says, and smiles a bit. Stiles smiles back. “She’s a good sister. We have a strong bond after everything we’ve been through.”

“Where is she?”

“South America.” Derek looks saddened by the fact. “I took her there a while ago.”

“Why?”

“She likes it down there.”

“Sorry, I think I totally got a few freebies in there.” Stiles laughs. “It’s your turn. Do your worst.”

 _Ba-dumbump. Ba-dumbump._ “Do you feel anything for me?”

Stiles’ heart rate skyrockets. His skin starts burning like he’s been dosed in gasoline and picks the wrong moment to blaze it. The question irks him because he doesn’t even know the answer. Derek’s looking at him expectantly and Stiles can’t look away. Derek’s heart sounds like it’s doing backflips and he’s sure his own is doing the same. The back of his neck starts to tingle, because damn this mating thing. There’s a strange heat in his hands and that’s when he registers he’s still got one on Derek’s knee and the other’s got its fingers wrapped around Derek’s own.

So his body definitely feels something for Derek. But does he? _No,_ one part of him wants to yell and jump out of the window, but the other part of him is suspiciously quiet. Like he’s teetering on the edge. Standing in between lives. In between himself. He makes himself close his eyes to relax, but when he opens them again Derek’s are flashing between blue and his regular eye colour. His gaze locks on Derek’s mouth where his lips are parted slightly, breathing hot air onto Stiles’ face.

“Kiss me.” Stiles says, without any control over it. Derek doesn’t move though, which is really frustrating because Stiles feels like he’s about to tear at the seams. “Derek. Kiss me. Right now.”

There’s some hesitation. There’s a lot of hesitation, actually. Which really surprises Stiles since he’d thought Derek would jump at the chance to kiss him. It hurts him a little bit, somewhere deep inside. Then Derek is leaning towards him and closing his eyes, and all Stiles can do is close his own when their lips meet. It feels normal at first, like he’s kissing someone else.

And then his mind catches on fire. Like there’s fireworks shooting out of his fingers and toes, and, oh my _god,_ what the hell is happening? He hears a low growling before realising it’s coming from inside Derek’s chest, and, yeah he totally needs to keep doing that. Stiles makes some kind of weird, strangled noise against Derek’s lips and manages to wrap his arms tightly around the Alpha’s neck and pull him closer. He can feel one of Derek’s hands on the bed next to him, holding his weight like he’s restraining himself. Nope. Definitely don’t want that.

Derek deepens their kiss, sliding his tongue into Stiles’ mouth and _holy god._ Stiles squirms next to him, holding onto Derek’s neck and if his nails dig in just a little bit, well, so what? He swivels his body around so his legs are resting on top of Derek’s. The Alpha takes a hold of them, just under one of Stiles’ kneecaps to steady him when he starts to wobble. Stiles feels his hands wander then, one sliding down Derek’s back and resting there, the other settling at the side of his neck to tilt his head for a better angle. The Alpha exhales heavily through his nose and pulls Stiles’ legs closer to his body. The movement causes Stiles to fall back against the bed and their mouths to part.

Derek looks like he’s shaking above Stiles and his eyes are squeezed shut. Like he’s about to pop a vein somewhere. Stiles can’t even think straight. He can’t see anything except the Alpha above him, holding onto him for dear life. Stiles lifts his head and presses their lips together again. Because really, what else can he do at this point? He can’t think anything except _Derek’s hands on him._ There’s a flash behind his eyelids like someone’s taking a picture. Then it happens again and Stiles sees some kind of vision. It’s like he’s transported into Derek’s loft – or, no it’s not his loft. It’s somewhere different. Somewhere messier, like there needs to be some home remodelling done. But Derek’s still on top of him and they’re still kissing. It feels like an old dream that he can’t remember the details of. There’s another flash and then it’s gone. Stiles feels his breath hitch in his throat.

“Stiles?” Derek says from above him, having pulled away and looking at Stiles with worry. “Stiles.”

“I’m fine.” Stiles says, struggling to focus his eyes on the man above him.

“I’m sorry.” Derek’s eyes flash blue and then go back to normal, like he’s suddenly completely aware of everything. “I’m sorry. I got carried away—”

“Stop.” Stiles commands. “Just. Don’t talk right now.”

Stiles leans up and kisses Derek again. The hesitation is back for round two but it doesn’t last as long this time because soon Derek is on top of him and their legs are tangled together at the end of the mattress. Derek kisses him like he hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time, all rough and full of longing and love and adoration. Stiles is drowning in it, and he figures, in his current brain fog, that he’s totally okay with Derek suffocating him. Derek’s slides one of his hands under Stiles’ shirt and splays his fingers over his rib cage like he’s trying to feel Stiles breathe. Stiles groans against him and accidentally bites Derek’s lip. He’s about to pull back and apologise because his brain is a mess and he can’t control himself, but Derek actually ends up biting Stiles back, taking his lower lip between his teeth. And that effectively ends any reservations Stiles has.

Stiles’ fingers fumble with the buttons on Derek’s shirt and Derek lets him, pressing Stiles firmly onto the mattress. He manages to get them undone with a lot of huffs and whines in complaint but Derek doesn’t seem to hear him or something because he doesn’t help. Stiles pushes the shirt down the Alpha’s shoulders and Derek pulls away to shrug out of it. Then he’s tugging Stiles’ shirt over his head and pushing him back onto the mattress. Derek looks wolfed out – like as wolfed out as he can be without, you know, _actually_ wolfing out. His hair is tousled and out of place, his eyes are glowing, and he’s panting above Stiles.

Stiles makes a noise at the sight, like all coherent thought is tossed out of the window. If he even has any to begin with. Derek shifts their positions then, but he growls as he does it, like he doesn’t really want to. He pulls Stiles on top of him and leans up to kiss the side of his neck, all wet and open-mouthed and _god._ All Stiles can do is take it. That’s until Derek pulls him down by his neck and licks at the mark there. Stiles feels like all he can see is the colour red.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position and pulls Derek with him, feeling the Alpha’s arms move around his back. He takes Derek’s face into his hands and slams their mouths together in desperation. He’s basically sitting in Derek’s lap now, shirtless, and somehow it feels normal. Like he’s done it before. He doesn’t realise he’s whining against Derek’s mouth until he hears it happen, but for some reason, Derek seems to like it. A lot. He grips Stiles’ shoulder blades so hard it hurts.

And then suddenly he’s pulling away and Stiles’ mouth chases him. “Stiles.”

“What?” That voice really can’t belong to Stiles, no way. No way he sounds as breathless as that. No way he sounds absolutely _raw_ like that. Derek’s chest is heaving against him, like he’s having trouble breathing even with Stiles pressed against him. Like it’s taking a lot out of him. Stiles aches to know _why._

“Stop.” Derek breathes, low and, jesus, Stiles wants to jump him. He actually tries to, but Derek puts a firm hand on his chest, the other supporting his back. “Stiles.”

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks, suddenly becoming self-aware. Derek smiles a bit, but it looks forced. That’s when Stiles sees his fangs coming out. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” Derek agrees. “I can’t control myself.” Derek breathes in deeply, like talking is difficult for him right now. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Stiles asks, reaching out and actually touching Derek’s teeth. Derek makes a move like he wants to bite Stiles, and the thought of it sends a spark straight to Stiles’ groin.

“Not for a long time.” Derek says, seeming to be in more control of himself. His teeth shrink back to normal. Stiles suddenly feels embarrassed.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles tells him, watching Derek’s mouth. “I feel like I’m under some kind of spell or something.”

“It’s me.” Derek breathes. “It’s with me being close to you.”

“Do you feel like that too?”

“Yes.” Derek says, shifting their positions so Stiles is free to climb off of him, but he doesn’t. “It’s stronger for me, because I’m a werewolf.”

“Your self-control deserves a medal or something, then.” Stiles stammers, getting his breath back. He shifts on top of Derek and settles for lying down next to him. Derek remains upright, but he twists his body towards Stiles. “Because _damn._ ”

Derek laughs, then makes a move to get up. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I asked you to.” Stiles told him, grabbing onto his hand to stop him from leaving the bed. Derek looks at him with sad eyes. “I asked you to kiss me.”

“You didn’t ask me to do this.”

“No, but I definitely didn’t stop you.”

Derek just sighs like the world is weighing him down, like it’s a pain to be alive. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Too late.” Stiles admits, then pulls at Derek’s arm so he’ll lie down next to him. It takes some coaxing but eventually Derek gets with the program. He lays down on his back, stiff, but his head is facing Stiles. They’re so close, with Stiles laying on his side, that their noses are almost touching. “Stay.”

“Your father—”

“You’ll hear him wake up.”

“Not if I’m sleeping.”

“ _Derek._ ”

“Okay." Derek shuts his mouth after that. He doesn’t say anything when Stiles eventually loses with the internal battle he’s having with himself and snuggles in closer to Derek, putting an arm over his chest. He feels the Alpha’s arm snake around his back, pressing Stiles against his side. Stiles welcomes it, but not as much as he welcomes the sweet escape of sleep.

“You smell like Derek.”

Well. That’s that then. Any attempt to keep what happened last night a secret just gets flushed down the toilet. Scott is eyeballing Stiles like he knows something, but he really doesn’t. He doesn’t know anything. Sure, Stiles had gone on a date with Derek and they may or may not have been _this_ close to sleeping together. It makes Stiles feel nauseous thinking about it, because, like, pheromones and stuff. He had no control over himself, and that scares him. It terrifies him. Like he couldn’t control his own body since it just felt like Derek was some kind of gravitational force pulling Stiles right to him. And Stiles resents him for it.

When Stiles wakes up that morning, Derek is gone. There’s not even an imprint of his body on the bed anymore. It’s like he was never there. Stiles starts panicking because, really? He’d made out with Derek Hale last night. That definitely wasn’t in the plan considering Stiles still has no idea how he feels about Derek. Well, he knows how his body feels but not his mind. And his mind is telling him to run.

For whatever reason, Derek takes Stiles’ wedding ring when he leaves. Stiles notices that it’s missing once he’s taken a shower and sees his bedside table looking oddly empty. He doesn’t even want to know why. He doesn’t even want to think about it. If he can just pretend last night never ever happened and go on with his life, that’d be great, please and thank you.

“No, really. Like you reek of Derek.”

Reality? Meet Stiles.

“No, I absolutely don’t.” Stiles barks. Lydia looks over at them in surprise and Stiles winces and smiles awkwardly, waving at her from across the parking lot. Scott sniffs the air again and shakes his head.

“You do. I would know.” Scott taps his nose like a freaking idiot. Stiles makes like he’s going to slap Scott in the face, and his friend surrenders. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“Well, _stop_ saying. Because I don’t.”

Erica pops her head in between them, and Stiles jumps about five feet to the right with a loud gasp. The werewolf starts laughing hysterically and seriously, with the sneaking up on him like that? Not fair.

“What’re you two bickering about?” She asks, shoving Scott playfully in the shoulder. Scott scowls at her and sticks his tongue out. “Lover’s quarrel. Aw, so cute.” She pinches Scott’s cheek like a baby and he swats at her. Then suddenly she sniffs the air. “Woah, what were you doing with Derek?”

“Not me.” Scott gestures with his head towards Stiles, who’s looking more and more guilty by the second.

Erica steps right into Stiles’ personal bubble and _sniffs_ him. “Hey, somebody got lucky.”

“What?” Scott sounds like he’s been hit by a train.

“I didn’t!” Stiles bites back. “If everyone could keep their stupid werewolf noses to themselves, I’d appreciate it!”

Erica rolls her eyes and gestures with head towards where Lydia is standing next to his dearly beloved jeep. “Come on. Let’s get going. A feast awaits.”

“Yeah, we’ll be right there.” Scott says. “Is she right? Did something happen with you and Derek?”

Stiles ignores him and groans. “Why do we have to go to this party, anyway?”

“Uh, because it’s for _you,_ you big idiot.” Erica says, grabbing Stiles by the arm and dragging him to his jeep. Lydia is standing there looking cute as a button and Stiles just hates everyone. “Lydia spent a week planning this. You’re gonna tell her you don’t even wanna go?”

Lydia starts looking something like puss in boots, with the eyes and the _look._ Stiles knows he’s doomed. He gives up by putting his hands in the air and Lydia squeals and claps her hands together. “Great! It’s starting soon. And remember, try and act surprised.”

“I thought the whole point of a surprise party was that the person didn’t know?” Scott jabs. Lydia does nothing but roll her eyes. Stiles smiles a bit at that, because he really can’t handle getting scared half to death by a bunch of people screaming _surprise!_ right now.

“Well, I couldn’t _not_ tell him.” Lydia explains, then smiles up at Stiles. “Otherwise he’d have shown up in a flannel t-shirt or something. And his hair wouldn’t be looking perfect.”

“My hair looks perfect?” Stiles can’t believe his ears. Is Lydia Martin flirting with him?

“Absolutely.”

“ _Not._ ” Erica crinkles her nose.

Lydia shushes her. “Sweetie, the humans are talking.”

Once the girls get into the car, Scott slaps Stiles in the chest. Stiles looks at him like, what the heck? Scott is making these eyes between him and Lydia, who is now sitting in the back of Stiles’ jeep chatting to Erica. Erica looks like she’s about to tear a hole in the roof and escape.

“Dude. That’s twice now.” Scott exclaims. “She’s totally flirting with you.”

“Yeah.” Stiles agrees, watching Lydia as she smiles. “She is.”

“So what about it?” Scott asks. “You and Lydia?”

“Well…” Stiles has to think about it, because something inside him is telling him it isn’t right. He figures it’s Derek’s influence, so he pushes it down out of spite and tries to regain some of his pride and oh, also self-control. “The ten year plan to get Lydia fall in love with me is definitely still in motion.”

Scott beams at him proudly and smacks his shoulder like a brother, before they all climb back into the jeep. “Seatbelts.” Stiles announces, and everyone buckles up without another word. Even Erica doesn’t protest.


	5. Tu Mérites Mieux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
>  **Chapter Title Translation:** Tu Mérites Mieux - You Deserve Better

**_THEN_ **

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Derek said, but obviously he was speaking to nobody but himself because the rest of his pack was decidedly going to do it anyway. Jackson was as unhappy as always, but there was a glint in his eyes like he was about to do something mischievous. His face became illuminated once he flicked at the lighter in his hands. Isaac was sitting beside him, looking unsure of himself. Their shoulders brushed in comradery.

“As much as I can’t believe these words are about to leave my mouth…” Stiles started, prompting Derek to look over at where he was sitting on the sofa. He had an arm around Erica’s shoulders who looked like she’d rather be anywhere but there. “I think I agree with Derek.”

Derek didn’t feel comforted by that, because Stiles’ opinion was less effective than a wet paper bag when it came to the pack. But only about the not-so important things. When it came to offering himself up as bait or ridiculously sacrificing his own limbs to save one of them, then his pack listened. And Derek just held his breath through it all because he knew he’d end up having to put Stiles back together again someday. It didn’t sit right in his bones. He couldn’t even bear the thought of his mate getting hurt trying to protect him. And, as he looked over at his mate, he hoped that the day would never come.

Scott started huffing at that point, and Derek started to think it was going to become his new thing. He was pushing his hair away from his forehead, still not used to the new haircut, and he was wearing a tattered old Metallica t-shirt. Derek recognised it as Stiles’, but said nothing. He felt a grumble inside his chest in jealousy, but passed it off as stupidity because Scott was Stiles’ best friend. He couldn’t for the life of him understand that. Funny how fate and circumstance had a way of completely changing things for Derek. In the beginning, he couldn’t believe Stiles was part of the team. Skinny, defenceless, hyperactive spaz. He almost growled out loud at his own brain.

It wasn’t like that now. He and Stiles were a team, and they fought together or not at all. Sometimes they fought with each other but it never came to much because at some point Stiles would always start laughing at him, and Derek’s resolve would crack. The skinny kid in front of him had become Derek’s reason for existing in such a short time.

Stiles smiled over at him then. Derek figured he could sense his turmoil. And just like clockwork, the Alpha felt himself smile back.

Scott groaned out loud, and Derek realised he must have been broadcasting loudly. Erica was looking at him too, and so was Boyd. Jackson was snickering under his breath and passed the joint to Isaac who started coughing and gagging immediately. Derek smirked at that. Lightweight.

“I’m gonna need about four of those.” Scott grunted, flicking his eyes in between Derek and Stiles. “If I’m going to get through his night without punching someone.”

“Nothing wrong with a little harmless wrestling.” Isaac said back, but his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. Scott laughed when smoke came out of the guy’s lungs.

“I think you’ve had enough already.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s not really for me.” Isaac shrugged, and sank back in his chair a bit. Jackson slapped him on the knee in a friendly gesture, but almost missed. Derek raised an eyebrow, realizing Jackson was a little out of it already.

“Don’t say that, man.” Jackson told him. “You’re one of us, but you’re still new. You’ll catch up.”

“I don’t like high-Jackson.” Stiles barked from where he was sitting. Erica elbowed him in the ribs as if to tell him to shut the hell up. “He’s too nice.”

“Don’t get used to it, wolf-boy.” Jackson spat back, glaring over at them both.

Stiles made a face at the werewolf and shot back. “Lizard-boy!”

“Lightweight."

“Pushover.”

“Freckle face!”

“Closet case!”

Jackson almost turned green after that. Lydia made her way over to him and took his hand, her skirt swaying just above her knees, and ushered him away from Stiles, labelling him a bully. Stiles shook his head and rose to his feet with his hands up. “He started it!”

“Actually.” Derek said, standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed over his chest. “You did.”

“Uh, excuse me.” Stiles gaped at him. Derek could feel a laugh bubbling in his throat. “You’re supposed to be on _my_ side!”

Derek didn’t know how to tell Stiles he would always be on his side, by his side.

“Ugh!” Stiles exclaimed, then plopped himself down next to Scott and Isaac. “Give me that thing.”

“Stiles…” Derek started.

“Nuh-uh.” Stiles pointed his finger at him, taking the joint from Scott’s hands and holding it up to his face. “You lost your mate privileges for this evening. You can contact my office in two to three working days.”

Derek rolled his eyes, and the rest of the night proceeded in a similar fashion. At some point, and Derek didn’t know how she managed it, Lydia herded the pack into a circle on the floor. Most of them were sitting with their legs crossed except from Stiles who had his knees tucked under his chin. Derek had a hand on his upper thigh and pretended to listen to something similar to a camp fire horror story coming out of Jackson’s mouth. The werewolves passed a few joints around like they were playing pass the parcel at a kid’s birthday party. Lydia was leaning her back against Jackson’s chest, sitting in between his legs, and he had his arms around her shoulders. Her legs were straight and her ankle was brushing the side of Isaac’s boot. Scott was swaying next to Stiles. Erica thought everything was hilarious. Boyd looked like he didn’t want to be there. Derek felt the same.

He’d rather have Stiles all to himself.

“Okay.” Isaac announced like he was the best at public speaking all of a sudden. He raised a hand in the air and grinned. Derek was sure he could smell the pot radiating from him from where he sat. “Let’s play something.”

“Yeah!” Stiles exclaimed. Derek squeezed his thigh.

“Like what, wolfman?” Erica asked, then smiled and climbed over on her hands and knees to ruffle Isaac’s hair. He allowed it, surprisingly, gaining an eyebrow raise from not only Derek but Scott too. Boyd dragged Erica back to her spot by her waist and looked at her firmly. “Aw, hey. I’m just kidding around.”

“You’re high.” Boyd stated.

“Well, _yeah._ ” Erica snorted before pressing a kiss to Boyd’s cheek. “So are you.”

“Are you two finished?” Scott asked, but his heart wasn’t exactly in it. Derek looked at him from where he sat, enjoying the way Stiles angled his body towards him instead of Scott. Derek leaned forward and nosed at the side of Stiles’ head, prompting Stiles to laugh and squirm. Scott looked up at the ceiling. “Are you kidding me? You too?”

“Lighten up, Scott.” Stiles told him, but his eyes were on Derek. He inhaled deeply and leaned forward, resting his head against Derek’s shoulder. “Just because Allison had to leave early.”

“What’s up with that, anyway?” Lydia asked, sitting up a bit in Jackson’s arms despite his protests.

Scott shrugged. “Her dad set a curfew.”

“He still doesn’t trust us.” Boyd told him as if it were obvious. Derek felt himself tensing and Stiles definitely noticed it. “Having his daughter hanging out with werewolves is bound to cause him a lifetime of stress.”

Everyone was quiet after that. Derek held Stiles closer to him. It felt natural and it felt easy. Derek was really beginning to understand why Stiles was made for him and only him.

“So, what about that game?” Lydia asked suddenly, and Isaac’s eyes lit up immediately. Derek wasn’t sure where it was going, but he wasn’t about to waste his energy trying to stop it from happening.

That’s how Boyd found himself in an arm wrestling battle with the entire pack. Jackson went down first, with Boyd almost snapping his wrist. Scott fared better though, much to Derek’s surprise. The beta was stronger than he thought. He was still defeated in the end. Boyd challenged Derek but he had declined, much to the dismay of Stiles. He’d wanted to see Derek _kick his little beta ass_. Derek wasn’t about to stoop that low, not even whilst he was intoxicated.

He hadn’t smoked a lot. He felt the need to remain somewhat in control in case Jackson popped a vein or in case Erica broken Isaac’s arm. Or in case Stiles ended up vomiting. He could envision every scenario as clear as day, and he wasn’t about to end up laughing instead of trying to help. Stiles was absolutely in another world, though. Derek had a hard time reminding himself sometimes that Stiles was human. He was breakable, and it upset him. He was weaker than Derek, most people were, but that didn’t mean Derek was okay with it. Neither was Stiles, apparently, because he just kept insisting that he keep up with the rest of them.

Scott was on another level entirely. He’d smoked the most out of the entire pack, and he was really close to becoming rabid. Derek had to snarl at him and yank him away from their kitchen earlier. Scott had a guilty look on his face and a mouthful of wood. Jackson thought it was hysterical, but Derek was less than impressed.

“Try eating something _in_ the cupboard and not the cupboard itself.” Derek had barked.

Stiles had high fived him after that. Derek wasn’t really sure what he was getting at when he held his hand up, until Stiles sighed dramatically and pulled at Derek’s hand until they high fived. It sent a jolt of electricity down the Alpha’s spine, and Stiles looked like he was ready to jump him. He didn’t, though, and Derek was surprised at his self-control.

And then there was pieces of wood flying across the room. Erica had beaten Boyd at an arm wrestle, and the dining table had suffered for it. It snapped in half, almost a clean line straight down the centre of it. Erica looked over at Derek with wide eyes, and Boyd looked about the same but as if he was trying not to laugh.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and sighed. “You’re paying for it.”

Scott thought that was an excellent time to snap a photo of him, though. He growled at the beta who backed away apologetically.

“Do I look like I want to remember this moment, Scott?”

“ _I_ definitely do.” Jackson laughed. He looked like he’d been out running in the woods outside Derek’s loft. There were leaves in his hair and his shirt was torn at the bottom.

“Give me that.” Derek snatched the cigarette from Jackson’s hand and gave up. He settled down after he smoked some more. The pack seemed to welcome it, and kept coming to talk to him. So much that Derek considered letting his guard down more often because the sense of comradery was soothing his soul. Stiles was positively beaming at him, and Derek thought he’d never seen someone so radiant. Scott kept snapping photos of them when he thought they weren’t looking. Stiles must have been okay with Scott using his camera all night. The camera Derek had bought him. Instead of growling, Derek settled for taking Boyd up on his offer to arm wrestle on the half of the table that was still standing upright.

There was cheering and booing when Derek won. Boyd actually shook his hand and accepted the defeat, and suddenly the beta was giving him a one-armed hug. Derek could hear Lydia’s awing from behind him. He didn’t know how to react at first, tensing, because Boyd had never hugged Derek before. Nobody had. Only Stiles. Stiles was standing behind Boyd with a smile on his face, watching them. Derek put an arm around Boyd’s shoulders and patted him on the back once.

At some point, once they’d all started to settle down and Stiles was sitting in between Derek’s legs on the floor, Scott decided it was time for a group picture. Great, Derek thought, but Stiles seemed to love the idea so he allowed it. They all huddled close together, somehow all managing to fit some way or another on their small sofa. Derek was sitting in the middle, Stiles between his legs, and put his arms around his shoulders. Stiles held Derek’s hands around his neck. Erica was plastered to Derek’s side uncomfortably, with Boyd sitting on the side with his arm around her. Isaac was at Derek’s other side, Jackson next to him. Lydia sat next to Stiles on the floor and Jackson put a hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him and something about it made Derek kiss the top of Stiles’ head.

Scott fiddled around with the camera, propping it up on top of a few cushions on one of the chairs. “Okay, get ready!” He sprinted to Boyd’s side and smiled. Derek could feel Stiles grinning. The camera flashed and Derek was blinded. That’s when Boyd called out in pain and Derek’s attention was immediately on him. He was clutching at his left eye and Erica was fussing over him. Blood trickled out between his fingers.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Erica exclaimed, panicked, pulling at Boyd’s hands so she could take a look. “I’m sorry! It’s my nails! I forget how big the are!”

“Sometimes I think you don’t even need claws.” Boyd grunted back at her fussing. He took his hand away and Derek could see that his eye was red and swollen. But he’d already started healing. “I’m fine. Just keep your paws away from me.”

“Babe, don’t be like that. It was an accident!” Erica guffawed up at him and pressed a loving kiss to the side of his head. Boyd rolled his one good eye at her.

“I think.” Stiles said suddenly, and he was heaving under Derek’s arms. Derek looked down at him in alarm. “Yeah. No. I’m gonna throw up.”

Stiles stumbled to his feet and half-crawled to the bathroom. Derek was behind him in an instant. Erica was next, trying to offer Stiles some water whilst he puked up the remnants of his dinner.

“Not so good around blood, are ya, buddy?” Erica pawed at Stiles’ hair affectionally. Stiles groaned painfully and tried to give her the finger when she tried to pull him up and make him drink something. After a while, Derek ended up having to pick up his semi-lifeless mate and put him gently on the sofa, fetching a tartan blanket and putting it over him.

“Party’s over.” Derek announced. “All of you let me know when you get home.”

“Yes, sir.” Jackson said sarcastically, saluting Derek. Lydia smiled at the Alpha in embarrassment and ushered her boyfriend out of the loft. The others were quick to follow. Erica fussed at the bandage around Boyd’s head as they left and he insisted that he was _fine._ Isaac gave Derek a small wave before he left. Scott was still standing next to Derek and they both looked down at Stiles.

“He’s happy.” Scott said surprisingly, and Derek raised an eyebrow and side-eyed him. “I mean, maybe not right now. But in general.”

“He is.”

“So… I guess it’s okay.” Scott struggled with himself visibly, rubbing absently at the back of his neck and turning to face Derek. Stiles snored quietly next to them, face buried in the blanket. “That you’re together. You make each other happy. I can see it. I haven’t seen you like this before, and it’s good. The others can feel it too. You’re a lot easier to be around when Stiles is with you.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s meant to be a compliment.”

“Right.” Derek huffed. “Are you giving me your blessing?”

“Yes.” Scott told him honestly, then seemed to reconsider his words. “Not that Stiles needs it. He really likes what you’ve got going here. Just… don’t mess it up.”

Derek looked down at his sleeping mate and his gaze softened. “Why would I mess it up?”

“You haven’t got the best track record when it comes to relationships, Derek.”

“Okay.” Derek agreed, because it was true. He wished it wasn’t. “Stiles is… different. He’s my mate.”

“I know. And this is a once in a lifetime thing.” Scott agreed, looking down at Stiles. “You’ve actually found the one you’re supposed to be with.”

“You’re wondering why it hasn’t happened with Allison?”

“I guess.” Scott looked down at his feet then, putting his hands into his pockets. “I’m just saying, the others, they feel it too. It’s like you’re finally acting like an Alpha is supposed to. And it’s because of him.” Scott looked over at his unconscious friend, then inhaled and straightened his back. He held his hand out for Derek to shake it. “So. We’re good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Scott said definitively, and Derek felt compelled to shake his hand firmly. Once he’d let go and Scott had turned around to leave, he paused and looked back at the Alpha. “But if you hurt him, I’ll kill you myself.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

And then Scott was gone.

**_NOW_ **

****

It has been two weeks since Stiles moved out of the loft. Derek already feels like his mate’s scent is dwindling in every room except the bedroom. He hasn’t changed the sheets since Stiles slept in there. He can’t bring himself to do it, and after a couple tries, he gives up entirely and just locks the door. So, Derek sleeps on the sofa in the living room now. It’s not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world. And when he’s lying on it sometimes it feels too big for him, like he’s missing something. His loft is too big. It’s missing something, too. Some _one_.

He sulks for a good three days after Stiles leaves. He can’t shake off what Stiles said to him. _I can’t do this anymore._ It sends a cold shiver down Derek’s spine and raises the hairs on his arms. He stares at his forearm and watches goosebumps form on his skin. He doesn’t usually get cold, and figures it’s a side effect from being apart from Stiles. They’d spent almost every day together for nearly three years. And now, suddenly, that warmth is missing from his side. Stiles’ hand is out of his grasp. He howls at the moon after Stiles’ dad leaves that night after listening to them from the window upstairs. He can’t help it.

The pack doesn’t come running this time. Not all of them. Isaac appears at his door an hour after, just when Derek is trying to clean up the mess he’s made of the living room after having a semi-meltdown. He’s bending down to pick up a few books from the floor when Isaac opens the loft door.

“You’re an idiot.”

But it isn’t Isaac’s voice, because Isaac doesn’t even open his mouth. Derek spins around, still crouching on the ground, and bares his teeth. Peter is sitting on the spiral staircase like he owns the place. He’s swatting at dust on his boots when Derek spots him and growls.

“How did you get in here?” Derek barks, and Peter just looks at him. It infuriates Derek, because most of the time Peter isn’t exactly a welcome presence. His own uncle irks him.

“The roof. You still haven’t fixed the hole in it.” Peter tells him, and his voice is low and calm. He doesn’t move from where he’s perched and Derek stands up with the books in his hand. “You didn’t hear?”

“No.” Derek admits, then grunts in frustration as he puts the books back on the shelf ahead of him. “I was distracted.”

“I know. I heard you a half hour ago.” Peter says, gesturing with his head towards the moon. It’s just Derek’s luck that Peter is the only one who heard his howl of grief.

“Me too.” Isaac chirps. He’s still standing at the loft door as if he’s unsure if he can come in or not. Derek waves him in and the young beta slides the door closed behind him. Or he tries to before it’s being slid open again by Erica. Boyd follows in behind her and he closes the door politely once they’re inside.

“We all heard you.” Erica says, making her way into the room and past Isaac, who’s remaining still as a statue. The woman is looking around curiously at the mess Derek has made. Then, she sniffs the air and starts frowning. “Stiles?”

“He left.” Derek tells her. Erica looks appalled.

“Why did Stiles leave?” Boyd asks, standing tense at the doorway. Isaac puts his hand on Boyd’s shoulder and shakes his head like he knows Derek won’t want to talk about it. Derek praises Isaac in his head, but remains silent. He bends down and picks up a couple more books from underneath the dining table.

“Because Derek’s an idiot.” Peter says, standing up and making his way down the stairs. His boots make a harsh sound against the metal until he steps onto the floorboards. Derek returns to a standing position and hands the books to Erica who takes them without saying anything. Derek focuses his attention on his uncle.

“ _Why_ am I an idiot?”

“You let him go, didn’t you?” Peter says like it doesn’t matter much to him. His hair is shorter since the last time Derek saw him, but his stubble is longer. “Didn’t even put up a fight, really.”

“I thought you just got here.” Isaac says, finally taking a few steps forward. He takes the books from Erica’s hands and puts them back on the shelf like he’s trying to do Derek a favour.

“I did, but I know my nephew very well.” Peter explains, eyeing Derek. Derek wants to punch him. “You let him go, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why the hell would you do that, Derek?” Erica sounds angry now, like she’s absolutely appalled at Derek. Derek understands it, because he’s appalled at himself for letting any of this happen. If he had just protected Stiles like had sworn to do, they wouldn’t even be in this situation. Derek’s eye twitches in response but he doesn’t tear his gaze away from Peter.

“Erica.” Boyd says in warning.

“Yes, Derek?” Peter asks. “Why _would_ you do that?”

“Because Stiles wanted to leave.” Derek tells them, like he’s under pressure. Suddenly being alone starts feeling like a better option after all. Then Isaac has a hand on his shoulder and it soothes him a fraction. Maybe not. “I couldn’t force him to stay.”

“But… he’s your mate.” Isaac says like he can’t understand it. Derek pulls his shoulder away from the young beta roughly, not enjoying the hurt flash in his eyes.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Derek barks. “Do you think I’m not affected by any of this?”

“We know you are.” Boyd says, still standing far away. Boyd does his best to avoid drama at the best of times, and tense situations aren’t where he excels, but he’s definitely trying. Derek looks over at him with a hopeless look on his face. “That’s why we’re here. You didn’t ask us to be here, but we are. You wouldn’t ask us. That’s exactly why we’re here.”

“He’s right.” Isaac agrees.

“Derek.” Erica says, touching Derek’s forearm. His muscle tenses at the touch but he forces himself to relax. Peter is suspiciously quiet in front of him, as if he’s studying the way the pack interacts with Derek. Derek doesn’t like being treated like some kind of science experiment. It makes him feel like nothing more than a lab rat. “We _know._ Okay? We know how you feel. And it’s not like you’re leaving much to the imagination because you’re broadcasting. A lot.”

“You do it all the time.” Isaac tells him hesitantly, like he’s worried Derek might bite his head off for opening his mouth. “Since you’ve been with Stiles, well… I guess you got it from him. He’s pretty much transparent.”

“I’m transparent, then?” Derek asks, annoyed. Erica shakes her head at the Alpha and tightens the hold she has on his arm.

“Not at all. Nothing like Stiles.”

“You’re harder to read. It’s better than it used to be.” Boyd says.

Derek sighs heavily, letting all of the air in his lungs escape. He doesn’t think it’d be that bad of an idea to never breathe again. Then it would all be over, and Stiles could be free. He furrows his brow and closes his eyes, head bowed.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Erica tells him, letting his arm go and moving away towards Boyd. Boyd looks at her questioningly. “Stiles. I’ll watch him.”

Derek nods curtly, and Erica leaves the loft at that. If she’s watching over Stiles, at least Derek will have some peace of mind that he doesn’t get himself hurt. Or anything else. Isaac is looking at Peter suspiciously, and it prompts Derek to look at his uncle.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with my nephew in private.”

Derek scowls at his uncle for a long moment. Both Boyd and Isaac don’t move from where they are, waiting on their Alpha’s approval. Eventually, Derek nods and waves them away. Boyd moves forward and takes a hold of Isaac’s arm. “We’ll take a run around the perimeter.”

Once they’re alone, Derek falls against the sofa and puts his face in his hands. It’s no use hiding anything from his uncle because he’d see right through it anyway. Peter and Derek have known one another a long time, and even though they used to be enemies, they’re still family. And nothing breaks a bond like that. Not even death.

Peter takes a seat on top of the dining table and puts his feet on one of the chairs. He’s facing Derek but Derek doesn’t look at him, looking down at his shoes through his fingers.

“It’s a mess in here.” Peter says, and Derek scoffs in response.

“I was in the middle of cleaning it.”

“Exactly.” Peter tells him as if he’s never been more sure about anything else. “You clean up your own mess. Is that what you’re doing with Stiles?"

“What?” Derek looks up then, and Peter is staring down at him. They glare at each other for a long moment before Derek gives in and goes back to looking at his shoes. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“You have to bring him back.”

Derek snaps his head up to look at Peter, but he gets the feeling his eyes betray him and Peter can see the pain in them. “How?”

His uncle’s eyes widen like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Through his heart! How else?”

Derek looks at him for a long time. Really looks at him. Peter’s eyes are bright blue, naturally, but the moonlight is reflecting in them and making them more intense. He’s gripping the edge of the table and his knuckles are white. Derek can feel his brow furrowing.

“I don’t care what you think about me, Derek.” Peter says through gritted teeth. “But I care about you. And I care about Stiles. I can’t see you like this any longer.”

Derek thinks about it for a long time. For days. It’s Tuesday by the time he realizes he can’t keep ignoring Stiles. By that time, Isaac and Peter have basically moved back in to the loft with him. Isaac makes a corner for himself to sleep in, a bundle of blankets and a half eaten bag of tortilla chips. Peter stays with Derek almost twenty four seven, and departs in the evening, stating that he has to leave. But then Derek hears creaking from above, and he knows Peter doesn’t leave at all, but rather sleeps in the attic. Boyd joins them a few days after. He doesn’t make small talk and he doesn’t hover, and basically leaves Derek alone. But his presence is soothing enough, so Derek allows it.

It’s nearing midnight when Derek gets a text from Erica.

23:29. **Erica:** _stiles was smoking pot. he’s carrying scott home. i’ve got lydia._

Derek feels like killing someone. Or more accurately he feels like killing Scott. He’s about to go on a rampage, shrugging into his jacket and grabbing his car keys when Peter plants himself between Derek and the door. Derek snarls at him but his uncle stands his ground. Peter is wearing one of Derek’s shirts and it’s loose on him, but it doesn’t seem to matter because he looks like he’s ready to take Derek head on despite their difference in size.

“Stop and think.” Peter orders. Isaac approaches behind them but Derek raises a hand behind himself in warning for him to stay back. Isaac stops immediately.

“Get out of my way.”

“Derek.” Peter snarls back, baring his teeth and Derek mimics him. They growl at one another. “You go there looking like that, and Stiles is never coming back.”

Derek stops snarling.

“You have to let him do what he wants.” Peter’s teeth start returning to their normal size. “You can’t control him. And you can’t go over there not thinking straight. You’ll just drive Stiles further away.”

Derek calms down. And he does what his uncle says.

That’s how he ends up asking Stiles on a date. His mate surprisingly accepts, and Derek enjoys the way Stiles’ heart skips a couple of beats when he asks. When Wednesday comes, he can sense Stiles’ anxiety before he arrives at the Sheriff’s house. It fizzles away eventually and he can see Stiles relax. They both actually start having fun, and it’s easy. It’s natural. It’s like it always is. And that saddens Derek, but he’s doing a good job of hiding that side of him. Stiles had expressed his distaste for Derek’s sadness, so he hides it from his mate. A tactic he used to use a lot whenever Stiles was afraid and Derek had to be strong for him.

Then Stiles is touching him in the lake, waist deep in ice cold water. And Derek can’t control the arm he gets around Stiles’ waist. He inhales deeply into Stiles’ head and savours the feeling. The scent travels through his nose and into his chest. It swells considerably and Derek feels like he might just grab Stiles there and then and never let him leave again. But when those thoughts start coming, Derek distances himself.

And then he hears the words _kiss me_ and Derek’s mind blanks. He loses control very quickly. He’s hovering above his mate, all the muscles in his body tensed and aching. He can’t stop Stiles from undressing him, because his body won’t allow it, but his mind is tearing itself apart at the seams. A battle between himself and his instincts. Because Stiles feels so damn good against him and he can’t leave. Until he does, because the idea of Stiles regretting it in the morning is powerful enough to bring him back to his senses. He wraps an arm around Stiles’ back and lets him fall asleep against his chest. He listens to the easy beating of his heart and steady breathing. Sometime after three am, Derek manages to tear himself away from Stiles and put his shirt back on. He manages to take Stiles’ shoes off his feet without waking him, and put the sheets over him.

Something catches his eye, shimmering in the moonlight. Stiles’ wedding ring, tossed on the bed side table like an afterthought. Derek’s heart shatters. He looks down at his own ring, then back to Stiles’, and decidedly steals it back on his way out the bedroom window. He lands on the ground roughly and takes off into the night, looking back more than once like he can’t believe he had the strength to leave.

He collapses onto the sofa when he gets back to the loft. Isaac is curled into a ball in his corner and Peter is suspiciously absent. Derek takes Stiles’ ring out of his jacket pocket and fidgets with it. He ends up putting it on an old chain he has the next day, and fastening it around his neck. He will keep it close to his heart until the day Stiles asks for it back.

18:36. **Erica:** _we’ve got a problem_

18:37. **Erica:** _get to lydia’s house. now_

Derek doesn’t need to be told twice.

He pulls up to the house ten minutes after he gets the message. He can’t find anywhere to park so he abandons his car at the side of the road. There’s four or five other cars parked outside, and two in the driveway. There’s music coming from inside the house and all the lights are on. Derek raises an eyebrow when he sees Erica standing outside looking miffed.

“What the hell took you so long?” She demands once Derek approaches her. She’s wearing a tight dress and her hair is styled like she hasn’t done it herself. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

“What’s the problem?” Derek asks, listening to the chatter inside the house. The music is loud but he can still make out the sound of Stiles’ voice inside. Scott’s, too. And a few others he can’t really identify. Erica is sighing at him.

“Stiles is the problem. I thought you two really hit it off on that date?”

Derek frowns. “We did. Why?”

“Because Scott keeps pestering him about Lydia. She’s flirting with him. I saw it.” Erica tells him, and Derek feels the growl inside his chest before he hears it.

“Scott?” He snarls, low and dangerous. Erica looks at him like she’s about to slap him across the face to get him to snap out of it and focus.

“Look, he doesn’t like you. We all know it. But he’s right.” Erica tells him, waving a hand at the house. “Lydia is flirting with Stiles. And it’s a lot. It’s overbearing. She freaking reeks.”

“Reeks.”

“Yeah. Like the way you used to before you finally got your head out of your ass and kissed Stiles.” Erica snaps back. “You have to do something.” Derek falters, and Erica sees it and looks at him like she can’t believe it. “Are you serious, Derek? There’s a girl in there trying to steal your mate and you’re just standing there?”

Derek growls at her in warning and Erica freezes in response. “Steal my mate?”

“Scott is pushing Stiles to go for it.” Erica says. Then she looks back towards the house when someone calls for her. “Coming!” Then she looks back at Derek. “Come on. You’re invited. But wipe that look off your face before you scare them.”

Erica drags Derek by the hand and ascends the steps into the house. The music hits Derek’s ears like an oncoming train. The house is big, and it’s decorated with balloons and banners. One of them says _Welcome back, Stilinski_ , another says _Surprise!_ and Derek squints at them. There’s a sharp stench of alcohol in the air, like some kind of fruit punch. A couple of people push past them with red cups full of some kind of red liquid. Derek’s face must display his shock, because Erica slaps him on the arm.

“I know, right? Reeks like a locker room in here.” She says, then laughs but it isn’t funny and she knows it.

“Derek, you made it.” Isaac is by his side suddenly, holding a familiar red cup and smiling. Derek hadn’t even noticed his absence at the loft. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“He might not have gotten the invite.” Erica admits. “Until right now.”

“Hey, Mig—Derek.” Someone says next from somewhere behind Isaac. Isaac rolls his eyes and steps to the side revealing Danny. He is hiding behind Isaac like Derek is some kind of threat to him. “Hey.”

Derek says nothing to either of them, instead trying to listening over the music and locate Stiles. It turns out he doesn’t have to try very hard.

“Stiles is in the back yard with Scott and their water guns.” Isaac tells him, and Derek sighs in relief. Isaac looks at Erica then. “Oh, and Lydia’s upstairs. She said something about wanting to talk to you.”

Erica sighs, looking at Derek like she really wishes she was someone else. “I’ll be up there in a second.”

Isaac shrugs then. Danny looks like he’s about to pass out. Derek nods to them, then looks at Erica. “You go. I’ll be fine.”

“You? Fine? At a party?” Erica says in disbelief, and Derek shoots her a look. “Okay, fine. I’ll be upstairs.” Then she climbs upstairs and Derek catches someone checking out her underwear when her dress sways on the way up. He shoots them a look and the guy, who doesn’t have a name, holds his hands up in mercy.

“Sorry. Didn’t know you were hittin’ that.”

“I’m not hitting that.” Derek replies flatly.

“Uh. Come on, man.” Isaac says to the guy, ushering him away. “Let’s go for a refill.”

And then Derek is left standing with Danny. Danny doesn’t look too pleased about it and honestly, neither is Derek. He’s too busy focusing on Stiles’ heartbeat to pay any attention to the guy in front of him, who’s shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“So, you and Stiles.” Danny begins, and Derek glances at him. “How’s that going?”

Derek doesn’t reply. Danny stands there for a second before widening his eyes a fraction. “Okay. Good talk. I’m gonna go now.”

Derek welcomes the peace and quiet. Well, he would if there wasn’t loud music assaulting his ears. He saunters further into the house, making his way through the foyer and into what seems to be like the living room. There’s a few people plastered on the sofa, and a couple making out by the window. Derek feels for Stiles’ ring around his neck, just to check it’s still there. That’s when he hearts Stiles’ heartbeat start racing.

“Ow!” Stiles exclaims from somewhere near the back door. Derek can’t see him. “My finger is _burning!_ ”

“What happened?” He hears Scott say, worry in his voice. There’s some shuffling. “I don’t see anything.”

“I don’t know.” Stiles sounds upset by the fact, and Derek’s heart aches. Suddenly, there’s shuffling again. “Let me just go wash my hands or something. Be back in a sec.”

“Don’t take too long!” Scott yells out for Stiles. Derek can see him how. He’s dressed in a light purple dress shirt, but it’s unbuttoned at the collar. His hair is gelled in all directions and pointy. He doesn’t see Derek and Derek intends to keep it that way for now. He slides against the archway separating the kitchen from the living room and waits for Stiles to move through the hallway. He hears his footsteps ascend the stairs and into what is presumably the bathroom.

Derek moves away from the wall and makes his way out the back door. There’s a set of fairy lights decorating the fence surrounding the garden, and Derek squints at them. They’d had fairy lights just like that at their wedding. Scott is sitting on the grass with his phone in his hand. He tenses as soon as Derek steps outside, immediately knowing he’s there. The smaller beta rises to his feet and puts his phone back in his pocket. He looks at Derek like he’s nothing to him, and that hurts Derek more than he thought it would.

“What’re you doing here?” Scott asks.

“I was invited.”

Scott huffs in response, seemingly expecting Erica. He rubs at the back of his neck and Derek has the urge to choke the life out of him. “Right. And you usually accept invites to parties.”

“Scott.” Derek snaps, and he has Scott’s full attention immediately. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?” Derek snaps again, louder this time. The party behind him is forgotten. Scott looks guilty, and Derek can feel his anger rising. “Because last time I checked, Stiles was my mate.”

“Dude! Open your eyes!” Scott snarls, and Derek ends up baring his teeth at him. “You barely even talk to him!”

“Because he asked me not to!” Derek snarls, and Scott is snarling back now, eyes flashing red. Derek’s fists uncurl at his sides and he lets his claws grow long and hard out of his fingertips.

“Why do you think that is?” Scott rumbles. His body is shaking now at the threat. “Do you think he’ll be happier with you?”

“He _is_ happy with me!”

“He told me he wants to forget!” Scott yells. “He told me he doesn’t want the bond between you to come back!”

“You’re lying.”

“You know I’m not!” Scott snarls loudly. “He deserves to move on with his life!”

“ _I’m_ his life!” Derek starts shaking and he shifts fully, crouching down low and growling at Scott. Scott’s eye twitches and then he’s shifting too, snarling at Derek like a wild animal. He spits in Derek’s face.

“Not anymore.” Scott manages, his speech distorted. “He doesn’t love you anymore.”

Derek snaps. He lunges forward and Scott tumbles backwards against him, snarling loudly and fighting back with his teeth. He goes for Derek’s neck, but the Alpha manages to roll away and jump back on his feet. Scott huffs out a breath and rises back to his feet. He lunges at Derek, who dodges it easily. Then he lunges again and collides with Derek’s torso, crashing them both into the fence behind him. It shatters under their weight and Derek feels himself get pushed through it and into the yard next door. Fairy lights land on top of them in a messy pile. Derek’s back collides with the ground with a harsh crack and Scott is pinning him down with his hands. Derek snarls up at him, aiming his teeth for his throat.

There’s a scream from somewhere behind Scott. Scott doesn’t react to it though, snarling down at Derek. Derek pushes the beta backwards and into a sitting position, raising his hand to strike him with his claws.

“Stop!”

Derek’s hand freezes mid-air, and Scott stops growling immediately. The beta is bleeding from his head and it drips onto Derek’s chest, staining his white shirt. Stiles is standing on the grass a few metres away from them. His eyes are wide and he looks terrified. He uses his voice again, but it’s high pitched and panicked. “Stop it! Both of you!”

Derek’s teeth are still bared, his hand still suspended in the air with its claws out, until he sees Lydia next to Stiles. She’s pressed against his side, and Stiles is shielding her with his body. Derek slowly lowers his hand. Lydia looks terrified at both of them. Scott falters then too, sitting up straighter and letting go of the hold he has on Derek’s jacket. Like he’s remembering where he is. Derek’s eyes are glued to Stiles and his teeth return to their normal length. He sees Stiles shaking, but when his eyes move downwards, it’s actually Lydia who’s shaking against him. Their hands are interlinked behind Stiles’ back, like Lydia is holding on for her life and Stiles is protecting her. Stiles is protecting her from Derek.

Derek feels every emotion leave his body. He becomes hollow in a matter of seconds. His breathing isn’t even ragged anymore. Scott rises to his feet and turns to face the crowd. Most of the people from the party are gathered outside now, and the music has stopped. Isaac is looking at both of them like he can’t believe his eyes, and Erica looks the same. Except the woman’s teeth are extended like she’d been about to step in and stop them. There are a lot of scared eyes darting between Derek and Scott.

Derek watches Stiles from where he lays in a mess of tangled fairy lights. He’s squeezing Lydia’s hand tightly, and Lydia is hiding her face into Stiles’ shoulder. His shirt is darker, like she’s crying and it’s dripping onto him. He’s looking in between Derek and Scott like he’s never felt more betrayed in his life. Scott is right. Stiles is moving on. He used to hold onto Derek like that, and Derek would protect him. Now… now Stiles is protecting someone else he loves _from_ Derek.

There’s a beat where nobody moves. Scott has shifted back to normal now and is holding his hand to his head in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Derek rises to his feet, feeling pain in his back and legs. His vision is blurred in one eye, like he’s been injured there too. But he can still see the scene before him well enough. And it breaks him. Stiles’ heart is hammering inside his chest louder than Derek has ever heard it before.

Abruptly, Stiles starts yelling. But it’s just a long and loud noise of frustration. Then he storms off, leaving Lydia’s hand suspending in the air as she reaches out after him. Stiles disappears into the house and then Derek hears the front door slam closed.

“Stiles!” Scott yells, and makes a move to go after his friend before Erica is holding him back, motioning for Derek to go instead. Derek can’t help his feet from moving, until he’s going after Stiles and shooting Lydia a dirty look as he passes. He sprints through the house past the group of horrified people staring at him and crashes out the front door. Stiles isn’t there. He jogs down to the end of the driveway and looks both ways, trying to see where he went. He spots Stiles running up the street quite far away off to his right, and Derek takes off after him.

It doesn’t take long for him to catch up. “Stiles!”

“Get the hell away from me!” Stiles yells, angry, and doesn’t stop running. His chest is heaving like he’s struggling to breathe. Derek chases him for a while, following as Stiles cuts in through the trees in some attempt to lose him. Eventually Stiles is forced to stop and leans down, hands on his knees like he’s about to be sick. He’s sweating heavily. Derek jogs to a stop behind him.

“Stiles.” He says, not even a little bit out of breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” Stiles scoffs, but it sounds really breathless. Derek thinks back to him clutching at Lydia’s hand and feels an intense pain inside his chest. “You’re sorry, huh?” Stiles straightens and turns to face Derek, cheeks pink from running. “Are you really?”

“I am.” Derek tells him honestly.

“Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just decided to crash my party and attack my best friend!” Stiles actually shoves Derek then, who falls back at the shock of it. “What the hell is wrong with you, huh?”

“Nothing is wrong with _me._ ”

“Oh, so it’s _my_ fault you attacked Scott?” Stiles barks. “Because I didn’t want this!”

Derek growls then, and he hates himself for it because Stiles flinches back. “What _do_ you want?”

“I don’t know, okay?”

“You’re running.” Derek tells him. “And once you start, you don’t stop. You’ll always be running.”

Stiles is quiet for a moment after that. He looks at Derek like he doesn’t know who he is anymore. Like he never did in the first place. It’s nearly pitch dark outside and Derek can only see the side of Stiles’ face reflecting the moon light. He looks like he's about to to cry and Derek wishes he could disappear. He doesn’t want to make Stiles upset like this. He can’t handle it. He shoves his hands into his pockets and huffs. Stiles looks away and over at the trees to his right. He’s flexing his hands at his sides.

“I’m not running from anything.” Stiles says, voice tight and low. He’s glaring at Derek now.

Derek’s eyes flash blue. “What did you expect me to do, Stiles? I’m trying hard to save what we have, but looks like you’ve already moved on.”

“That’s not _fair!_ ” Stiles barks back before shoving at Derek’s chest again. Like he’s trying to get Derek to fight back, but he won’t.

“It’s not fair?” Derek asks flatly, void of all emotion. “I saw you holding hands. I saw the way she looked at you. I know… because you used to look at me like that.”

Stiles starts crying, and Derek wishes he could take the pain away. But if Stiles really wants to be free, free from Derek, then this is what he needs to do. Derek loves Stiles. And he loves him enough be able to let him go if that’s what will make his mate happy.

“That’s not—” Stiles begins, then it looks like he loses his words mid-sentence because he clamps his mouth shut. He’s shaking now and swatting at his own neck, at the mark there. Derek’s mark. He looks up at Derek and his eyes travel downwards to the Alpha’s neck. Derek touches his necklace around there self-consciously. “You took my ring.”

“You weren’t wearing it.” Derek says lowly. “I didn’t want to lose it.” _I didn’t want to lose you._

“It burned. When I took it off. For a while.” Stiles struggles, shaking his head madly like he’s trying to shake himself free of something. His hair becomes dishevelled and falls over his forehead. “Then it stopped. But now it’s burning.”

Derek lets the ring go and lets his arms fall down to his sides in defeat. Stiles is looking down at his own hand, at the absence of a gold band on it. It’s probably stopped burning now, that much Derek can gather. If Stiles’ reaction to him touching it at the party is anything to go on. There’s a lot of things Derek doesn’t know about being a mate, but now, the way things look, he figures he doesn’t have the need to find out anymore.

“Why are you wearing it?” Stiles asks. “Around your neck.”

“Because it’s yours.” Derek tells him. “I felt closer to you that way.”

“I don’t feel close to you at all anymore.”

“I know.” Derek crumbles at the seams and looks over at the moon. He can feel Stiles’ eyes on him. “I know you don’t. What happened tonight made that clear.”

“Derek, I—” Stiles stammers. “It’s not what you—”

“Scott told me.”

“Scott told you what?”

“That you want our bond to break. That you don’t want to be with me.” Derek tells him, standing very still. “That you don’t want your memories to come back.”

“It’s not—like that.” Stiles struggles, and Derek closes his eyes and keeps going.

“You don’t need to lie to me about it.” Derek whispers. “Please don’t lie about it.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything. He’s looking at Derek when he opens his eyes.

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice echoes through the woods. He hasn’t found them yet, so Derek figures he still has time to cut and run. Derek looks at Stiles once last time, trying to take in the sight of him and sketch it to memory. Then he makes a move to leave and suddenly Stiles is grabbing onto his arm and holding him in place. But Stiles looks like he’s having a battle with himself and his own limb, and Derek pushes down any hopes that he has.

“Let go.”

“I can’t.” Stiles says, tears falling from his eyes and landing on Derek’s arm. “I _can’t._ ”

Derek falters, hearing footsteps coming from behind them. “Stiles. Let go of me.”

And Stiles does. And then Derek is gone. He runs into the night and doesn’t look back. Can’t. Not when he’s left his heart behind.

21:22. **Erica:** _where are you???_

21:24. **Erica:** _derek if you don’t answer me i’ll rampage the town_

21:30. **Lahey:** _Derek, are you okay? Nobody can find you. Call me._

21:31. **Erica:** _answer your phone you stupid dog or i swear to god i’ll burn this town to the ground_

21:33. **Erica:** _i’m serious_

21:45. **Boyd:** _If you don’t pick up your phone Erica is going to kill you._

Derek doesn’t bother responding to any of them. He runs all the way back to the loft and switches his phone off. Peter is standing with the door open when Derek climbs the stairs two at a time. His eyes are wide and alarmed, but his stance is guarded. Derek comes to a stop in front of his uncle, and for a minute Peter looks like he’s about to flinch away like he’s expecting Derek to hit him. But he doesn’t.

Derek falls against Peter and immediately his uncle has his arms wrapped around him. Derek’s chest heaves and his entire body shakes. Peter holds onto him and doesn’t let him go.

“It’s okay.” Peter tells him, his voice low and sincere. “It’s going to be okay, Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek is back at narrating. Also, sorry.


	6. Souvenirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
>  **Chapter Title Translation:** Souvenirs - Memories

**_NOW_ **

****

Erica finds Derek eventually. It doesn’t take her long at all considering he’s hiding in his own house. Her anger fades as soon as she lays eyes on him and turns into something like sympathy. Derek is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, knees tucked against his chest and his head bowed. Peter is across from him on the adjacent wall mimicking his stance. There aren’t any lights on in the loft. The darkness feels fitting, and Derek keeps them off. Peter hasn’t protested at all. His uncle has been quiet for a while now, letting Derek deal with it on his own. He did, however, manage to get his nephew to remove his leather jacket, so that was something.

Derek still has blood on his shirt from Scott’s head. He can smell it. It smells like regret. Erica lets Boyd and Isaac into the loft and then closes the door behind them. Neither of the two men speak, but Isaac looks alarmed like he’s never seen his Alpha look so vulnerable. And he hasn’t. Derek is never this vulnerable with anyone, not even Stiles. But he’s had his heart torn out of his chest and stepped on too many times in the past weeks that he’s had enough. Boyd moves closer to Peter and stands next to him. Peter nods at him softly in acknowledgement.

“Derek…” Erica starts, kneeling down in front of the Alpha and putting her hands on his knees. “What happened?”

“Scott happened.” Peter answers for him.

“I was there, asshole.” Erica snaps back at him, before rubbing Derek’s knee. “Derek. Tell me what happened with Stiles .”

Derek looks up at her with a pained expression on his face. He can hear Erica’s sharp intake of breath upon seeing him. “I let him go. It’s over.”

“Oh.” Isaac breathes.

“Is that possible?” Boyd asks, but he’s looking at Peter for answers. Peter shrugs.

“It can be, if the bond is broken.” Peter tells them and leans his head back against the wall. “Or if they spend a great deal of time apart, the bond will weaken. But only for Stiles.”

“Only for Stiles?” Isaac asks. He kneels down next to Erica and looks at Derek with pain in his eyes.

“Yes.” Peter confirms. “Werewolves mate for life. One of the many consequences of our gift. But human mates fare differently. They don’t feel the bond like we do, so it’s easier for them to keep their distance if they really want to.”

“And you think Stiles wants to break your bond?” Erica asks like she can’t really believe what she’s saying. Derek glances at Peter, who just looks at him like he’s ready to fight should Derek ask him to.

“Scott said so. Stiles didn’t deny it.” Derek sighs and brings his knees closer to his chest. Erica falters and then moves her hands down to the Alpha’s calves. Her fingers wrap around the sensitive bones in his ankles. The touch doesn’t soothe him. “It’s over. He isn’t coming back.”

“I’m going to kill Scott dead.” Erica reports like it’s a fact.

“That wouldn’t change anything.” Boyd tells her, and he’s right. “That would just make it worse.”

“What do you suppose we do, then?” Erica snaps back at him.

“Nothing.” Peter says, flexing his fingers in front of him. Derek looks over at him. “No amount of killing would fix it.”

Erica huffs and pushes herself up and away from Derek to get in Peter’s face. It’s difficult considering Peter is still planted on the floor. Erica glares down at him. “Who made you in charge here? ‘Cause last time I checked, you weren’t even part of the pack.”

“He’s part of the pack.” Derek says. Erica turns around and stares at him like he’s a maniac. Derek feels like he is, in some way. “Leave him alone.”

Peter sends an appreciative look his way and Derek nods softly, before going back to sulking into his knees. Isaac straightens his back from where he’s still kneeling in front of the Alpha. It looks like he’s about to say something and then decides against it. Boyd wraps his arms around Erica and hugs her like it’s the only logical thing left to do. Erica returns it with ease, finding some comfort in it. Derek doesn’t bother looking up at either of them because he can’t. He can’t look at the affection they share. It just reminds him of Stiles and everything he’s lost because of his own mistakes.

“What are you going to do?” Isaac asks, looking down at Derek’s shoes and keeping his voice low and quiet. Derek doesn’t lift his head.

“I don’t know.”

Isaac seems to consider that for a minute before rising to his feet. Just when it looks like he’s about to turn around and move away, he tenses. His hands begin to shake at his sides and Derek lifts his head to look at them. The beta takes a deep breath.

“You are doing _nothing!_ ” He barks down at Derek, sending the whole room into shocked silence. Peter’s eyes flash gold but he doesn’t make a move. Erica and Boyd are looking at Isaac like he’s lost his mind. “You’re doing nothing!”

“Isaac.” Boyd says in warning but Isaac just growls at him. Boyd’s eyes widen and he backs off. Isaac’s whole body is shaking now. He never acts like this. Derek has always viewed him as a quiet beta, never really talking and just taking everything in. Until tonight. Derek looks up at him with wide eyes because he never expected to hear something like this from him.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Isaac snarls and bares his teeth. Peter is on his feet after that. “You’re doing nothing! Nothing to help the situation! Nothing to save what you have!”

If it were any other time, Derek would have snarled and yelled back. Now is not one of those times. Derek doesn’t really do anything except exhale a long breath into his knees. His hands are shaking now too. Isaac is wrong. Derek tried everything he could to hold onto Stiles.

“Why’d you think Stiles doesn’t want to get his memories back?” Isaac asks, not calming down at all. Peter steps forward to hold him back but Derek holds up his hand to halt him. “Because he’s _scared!_ He’s scared he’ll remember what happened to him! Hell, he’s probably terrified of it.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just listens. Isaac doesn’t seem to be able to stop himself, like he’s been holding it in this entire time and finally popped.

“Don’t you wish you could forget all of the bad things that’ve ever happened to you?” Isaac asks. Derek wishes he could forget about a lot of things. “Like the fire?”

“Isaac.” Boyd is snarling now in an attempt to get Isaac to back down.

“That’s enough.” Peter says as he takes a step forward and glares.

Isaac continues like neither of them exist. “And he’s scared of the bond. To be honest, I am too. Because werewolves mating is one thing, but mating with an Alpha? I can’t even think about it. Imagine how Stiles feels! He’s only a human!”

“He didn’t have a problem with it in the past.” Erica notes absently.

“That doesn’t _matter._ The past is the past for a reason.” Isaac shakes his head like he’s trying desperately to comprehend his own thoughts. Derek is staring up at him with his mouth open. “Stiles isn’t the same person he was three years ago, Derek. You can’t just expect him to be okay with everything right away. He’s clinging to Scott and the others because they make him feel _normal._ Like nothing happened to him, because that’s what he wants! He doesn’t want all of us crowding him and labelling him a mate. Because he isn’t. He’s…” Isaac trails off and clears his throat, like he’s only now realizing he’s started ranting at his own Alpha. “He’s Stiles. And he’s our friend. He’s part of our pack. That’s who he’ll always be.”

Peter is looking down at Derek with a sad look in his eyes, realizing Isaac’s words have some truth in them. A lot of truth. Erica is looking at her feet and blinking hard, as if she’s trying to refrain from crying. Boyd places a soft hand on her shoulder and looks at Isaac like he’s just answered all of life’s questions. Derek looks down at his hands, fingering his wedding ring. He touches the one around his neck. He wonders if Stiles can still feel him. If he can still feel the burning sensation on his skin whenever Derek touches it. It has to mean something.

“When I tried to leave…” Derek says and has trouble keeping his voice steady. “Stiles grabbed onto me. He couldn’t let me go. I forced him to.”

“Why did you force him to?” Peter asks.

“Because I thought that’s what he wanted.”

“After he told you he couldn’t let you go?”

Derek realises how it sounds now that he’s said it out loud. “Yes. But his body, it’s—”

“It remembers you.” Erica tells him and Boyd nods in agreement. “I heard him tell Scott.”

“He told Scott?” Peter asks, turning his head around to look at the pair.

“I was listening to them. Scott showed him some old pictures of all of us from when Stiles couldn’t remember. Can’t remember.”

“Pictures of the wedding.” Boyd interjects.

“Yeah. Pictures of all of us together back when Jackson was still around.” Erica says before she starts looking a little uneasy. “But I think Scott sensed me listening in. So I had to leave. I didn’t hear everything.”

“You never told me that.” Derek says absently. Erica shakes her head as if she had no intention of telling Derek anyway. Figures.

“How did Scott react?” Peter asks and doesn’t bother hiding the suspicion in his voice.

“He agreed. He said Derek calmed Stiles down in the hospital before he was even conscious.” Erica replies, but then she narrows her eyes. “That bastard.”

“Scott can rant all he wants about not being part of the pack, but he is.” Boyd sounds like he’s irritated but he does a good job of masking his face. Isaac is rubbing the back of his neck in between all of them like he’s hyper aware he’s literally in the middle of everything.

“What do you want us to do?” Isaac asks quietly, like he’s scared to speak to Derek now. Derek actually feels closer to him after his outburst, but he’ll never voice it. He feels like he can breathe better after hearing it, though. He looks up at them all, one by one. His pack. Well, some of them. A few are missing. But they’re here because they want to be and not because Derek had ordered them to be. It wouldn’t have happened before. Not before Stiles stumbled into his life.

Derek closes his eyes and decides. He’ll fight, but from the side lines. He won’t push Stiles into anything. Especially if he’s already moved on with Lydia. “Erica, just keep doing what you’re doing. If Stiles likes having you around, be there for him.” Then he opens his eyes and looks up at the other three. “Same goes for the rest of you. If you want to be with him instead of here, go. Just… make sure he doesn’t get hurt. By anyone.”

Peter opens his mouth to interject, like he’s about to say Stiles never really liked him in the first place, but is interrupted by Derek’s phone buzzing. Erica looks at him expectantly like she’s hoping it’s going to be Stiles. It isn’t.

00:03. **Scott:** _We should talk._

“It’s Scott.”

“Kill him dead.” Erica barks.

Boyd rolls his eyes. “What does he want?”

“To talk.”

Peter scoffs. Here we go.

**_THEN_ **

****

Stiles slammed his forehead against his laptop repeatedly just on the off chance he might be able to knock himself unconscious. Because, like, screw this werewolf stuff sometimes. He was small and weak and _human_ and was never allowed to help when it came to fighting monsters and the like. He felt useless. Like just a bag of breakable bones. Huffing, he shook his flannel shirt off of his shoulders to free his arms a bit. He was still wearing a black and white baseball shirt underneath, but the front was stained with blood and dirt and probably something else he didn’t even want to know.

It was only late afternoon by the time Stiles managed to work himself into an anxious mess. He constantly checked his phone for updates. He paced around his room. He chewed on a highlighter for ten minutes. _Ten minutes!_ He was losing it, like, really losing it.

Derek and Scott had taken the lead since Stiles was knocked unconscious. He’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like he always seemed to be. They’d confronted a foreign werewolf on their territory a few weeks back, and then Stiles just so happened to run into him again on his way back from the store. Stiles nearly died and, for what? Because he really needed that bag of Doritos? Okay, so, nearly died was a bit of an exaggeration. But seriously! If Derek and Scott hadn’t been close by he’d have been done for.

The werewolf – who turned out to actually be a freaking _Alpha_ from another pack – struck Stiles in the face and sent him flying back a good few metres before he collided with the asphalt in the parking lot. He watched through blurred eyes at Scott snarling like a madman and taking the Alpha head on. Derek used the distraction to tend to Stiles, gripping at his t-shirt and telling him if he died that Derek would resurrect him just to kill him himself. Ah, such a loving boyfriend, right?

Stiles had passed out pretty soon after that. He didn’t remember the car journey home, or how his jeep made it back either. Scott looked like he’d had an argument with a mountain lion and lost when Stiles came back to his senses. His friend was hovering next to Stiles’ desk with a grimace decorating his features. Derek was sitting on the bed next to Stiles and taking his pain with a firm hand placed on his forehead. Stiles grabbed at the air until the Alpha took one of his hands in his own.

Then proceeded to tell Stiles that they were going after the trespasser before he could hurt anybody else. And Stiles didn’t have any say in it. And then he was alone.

And he felt really, _really_ useless. He’d locked himself in his room for the past five hours upon Derek’s orders. He didn’t open the window to anyone. Not even Boyd, who’d appeared not too long after the other two had left. They had a short exchange through the glass. Boyd was there to guard Stiles’ house in case the Alpha trespasser returned. Derek’s orders. Stiles had rolled his eyes and, with an exaggerated huff, closed the drapes over Boyd’s stupid face.

Scott texted Stiles as soon as they were in the clear. The trespasser wouldn’t be bothering them again. And Stiles heaved a sigh of relief. Then proceeded to flail his arms and spin around in a circle when there was a light tap on his window.

“Stiles, it’s me.” Derek’s voice sounded from behind the drapes. Stiles rushed to the window and threw the drapes open, unfastening the latch and letting Derek step inside. He threw his arms around the Alpha the first chance he could and just held on for dear life. Derek’s strong arms were around his waist and picking him up, his feet dangling in the air. And Stiles figured really had to be dreaming or something because Derek actually spun him around in a circle like they were in some kind of romantic comedy. But then he saw Derek smiling at him with a mouthful of teeth and Stiles figured, sure, okay, he was happy to be in this movie. At least he could be a main character finally.

The Alpha inhaled deeply at the top of Stiles’ head. Stiles leaned up and kissed him like he hadn’t kissed him for longer than _five hours_ , well, give or take. Derek returned it with enthusiasm, keeping Stiles pressed against him and his feet still up off the ground.

“Don’t do that to me again.” Derek said once he’d put Stiles back down on the ground but kept his arms tight around his waist. Stiles gaped at him and punched him in the shoulder.

“ _Me?_ Do that to _you?_ ” He huffed and pressed another kiss against Derek’s mouth. “You ever go running after a psychotic Alpha again like that and _leave me here_ , I’ll be the one to kill you.”

Stiles had been with Derek for almost two years by that point. And he’d actually started letting Stiles tag along to their battles more and more. Well, on the agreement that Stiles would remain hidden and keep his damn mouth closed and do exactly what Derek told him to. Or something like that. The rest of the pack enjoyed having him around, even if they’d have to save his ass sooner or later because, honestly, Stiles was awful at following directions. Especially when one of his pack was in danger. Especially when Derek was in danger.

“You were hurt.” Derek informed him, pain flashing in his eyes as he scanned Stiles’ face and frowned. “You’re going to have a black eye.”

Stiles waved his hand like it was nothing. Because it could’ve been a _lot_ worse. What was another bruise at this point, really? “It’s not a big deal. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For being human. And breakable. And everything else about my existence that makes everything a lot harder for you—”

“Stiles.” Derek stopped him, loosening his hold around Stiles’ waist and ignoring the protests about it. “Nothing about you makes what we do difficult.”

“But I’m human!” Stiles whined. “And I fall over a lot. I’d probably end up breaking my leg walking to Scott’s house. I mean, if I fell down a ditch or something. Or—I don’t know. Sneezed or—”

“I love you.” Derek said suddenly and interrupted Stiles’ babbling. Well, okay, sure. Nice. Cool. Stiles wouldn’t get tired of hearing that because, seriously, Derek? Hot as hell. And, Derek? A total big softie. Under all that growling and brooding and lurking and _eyebrows_ was a big freaking teddy bear sometimes. Not that he’d let the rest of his pack know about it. Derek would probably kill Stiles before he even had the chance to blabber his big secret.

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles rolled his eyes like hearing it totally didn’t affect him. Which it did. His heart was pounding in his chest. “I love you too, sourwolf, but don’t think this conversation is o—oh my god.”

Derek took a hold of Stiles’ hand and bent down in front of him. On one knee. _Nope._ No. Way. Nuh-uh. This was definitely a dream. Stiles looked at his free hand to check for extra fingers. Derek was looking up at him with big eyes and Stiles just about melted to the ground. He held Stiles’ hand gently in his own, rubbing a soft circle into his palm like he was trying to calm him down. Kind of late for that. _Really_ late for that.

“Stiles.”

“Derek, what are you—”

“I love you.” Derek told him, silencing whatever Stiles was going to say. The Alpha inhaled deeply before continuing. “I want you. Everything about you. I want you to marry me.”

It was a total _Derek_ way of proposing. Like, he didn’t even ask, he just told Stiles what he wanted. He could totally roll with that. He could feel his chest bubble with the heat gathering in his stomach. He felt the corners of his lips quirk into a half-smile, because he couldn’t really believe his eyes or his ears yet.

“I don’t have a ring, but I wanted to ask you now because I almost lost you today. And I don’t want that to happen.”

“You don’t—it’s fine. I mean, _it’s fine._ ” Stiles stammered. He could hear his pulse in his ears. His cheeks were on fire. “Yes. Yes, I want to.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up so high it looked like they might actually leave his forehead. He rose to his feet and smiled and it was so _warm._ Stiles felt like he might explode. His head was swimming and he stopped himself from swaying in front of Derek, who was positively beaming at him. “You do?”

“Hell yes I do! Are you kidding me right now?” Stiles was grinning from ear to ear. “I want to marry you.”

Derek exhaled and scooped Stiles back up and into his arms. Stiles held on so tight he was sure it’d hurt. Derek was kissing the side of his neck, nosing a line along his shoulder to his jaw and back again, like he couldn’t get enough of his scent. It drove Stiles crazy. There was a sweetness in the air that he couldn’t get enough of. Derek was _happy_ and Stiles could _feel_ it. He could feel it so true and pure that it resonated in his bones. It made his knees feel stronger than before, like he was whole again. Whatever reservations he’d had about himself and his humanity were gone and replaced with his own happiness. Derek wanted to marry him. So Stiles could probably stop dropping hints left and right now since the Alpha finally decided to get with the program. He was young, sure, and probably his Dad might have to sit down upon hearing the news, but he didn’t care. He felt like his life had a meaning. Like he could finally start living it.

Derek leaned back and kissed him after that. And Stiles could feel the difference right away. Like Derek’s constantly tensed muscles had eased, and he was kissing Stiles like that was all he could do to survive. Stiles revelled in it, wrapping his arms around the Alpha’s shoulders and holding him tight.

“Did you ask him yet?” Scott’s voice sounded from somewhere outside his window. “Because Erica’s about to burst a blood vessel!”

“Shut the hell up, you stupid mutt!” There was some shuffling and it sounded like Erica had slapped Scott on the shoulder or something.

Stiles laughed. Derek pulled away and raised an eyebrow towards the window. “So much for privacy.”

“You’re an Alpha. You pretty much gave up on privacy the second you took the job.” Stiles told him, but laughed and leaned his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. Derek held him close and breathed into Stiles’ hair.

The others burst through Stiles’ bedroom door not long after that with an expectant look on their faces. Stiles nodded once, suddenly feeling shy. Erica squeaked and clapped her hands together. Boyd grinned and smacked Scott on the back. Scott smiled, wide and genuine, over at Stiles. Jackson was rolling his eyes from where he stood in the doorway like he couldn’t bear entering the room. But Stiles could swear, just a tiny bit, that the corner of Jackson’s mouth was turned up. Like he was dying to smile. Lydia was next to him and giving them a thumbs up with tears in her eyes. There was a glint in them as if she was trying to somehow communicate that she would so totally be the one planning the wedding.

Derek was looking over at his pack with pride, like he’d achieved something amazing and wanted to show it off. He wanted to _show off_ Stiles. Oh my _god_. The Alpha looked back down at Stiles and leaned down to press a soft kiss against his lips. And yeah, totally, Stiles was home. Stiles was where he belonged. This is where he was meant to be, surrounded by his friends and in the arms of someone he loved. In the arms of his mate.

**_NOW_ **

****

Scott asks Derek to meet him at his old house, as if he wants to offend Derek more than he already has. A strange place to meet considering the circumstances. It’s raining by the time he gets there. The house still looks the same as Derek remembers, half falling apart and collapsed in the back. The door has grown over with mould now. He’d abandoned it a long time ago. He had figured it was time to move on, so gathered his belongings and took off running. One of the best decisions he’s ever made, if Derek is honest. Because then his pack started wanting to come over a lot more. They were obviously more comfortable in his loft than they were at the house. Too many painful memories echoed inside those walls, and Derek knows it all too well.

Scott is standing in front of the steps when Derek sees him. There’s no car nearby so he figures Scott must have ran there in the middle of the night. Derek does the same, not out of urgency, but more to clear his head. He doesn’t want to fight with Scott. Despite everything, and everything Derek believes Scott has done to him, he doesn’t want to fight. Scott is wearing a hoodie over his dress shirt, probably to hide his own blood crusted into the fabric. He has his hood up and he’s dripping wet like he’s been waiting for Derek to arrive for a long time. He doesn’t look like he’s changed his clothes apart from that, still wearing what he had to the party. He turns around once Derek approaches, and Derek sees Scott’s forehead. It’s scabbed over now but it still looks like it hurts. A bite from an Alpha. Takes longer to heal. Especially if it’s from his own Alpha.

Derek doesn’t mention it though, because if Scott wants to pretend he isn’t part of the pack, he’ll allow it. He’s allowed it for a long time. He can do it a little more. If Scott ever comes back to his senses and understands that he doesn’t actually get a choice in who his pack is, Derek will accept him back.

“Derek.” Scott greets him. Derek keeps a good few feet in between them because he’s not too sure about Scott’s mental state. He has to be ready to attack if the moment comes. “You actually came.”

“You knew I would.” The Alpha keeps his arms at his sides and stares the beta down.

Scott shrugs and looks back up at the house before him. There’s a loud creaking inside like the bearings are struggling to cope with the wind and rain. “Weird being here again.”

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Derek asks. He’s hurt by it, really hurt. But he doesn’t express it and supresses the feeling from his beta. He can’t see how vulnerable Derek really is right now. It could turn into a war, and Derek’s sure he would lose.

“I don’t know.” Scott tells him. “It seemed… fitting.”

“To hurt me.”

“What? No.” Scott shakes his head and returns his attention to Derek. He has to narrow his eyes against the batter of the rain, but Derek ignores it. His hair is becoming soaked and flat. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well, you did.”

“I know.”

“More than once.”

“I _know,_ okay?” Scott snaps back before catching himself and straining to calm down. He squints over at Derek and sighs. “And if I could take it all back, I would. But what’s done is done, Derek. I can’t go back in time.”

Derek huffs.

“What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry.” Scott continues. It sounds genuine. “I’m sorry for lashing out at you at the party. And I’m sorry for… the other thing.”

Derek shakes his head, not wishing to remember what Scott is referring to. “Have you told Stiles what happened?”

“No.”

“Why?” Derek barks, angry now. “Because you’re afraid he won’t want to see you anymore?”

“Yes!” Scott snaps back. There’s a loud crash from behind them and Scott startles. A large chunk of wood falls from the decaying roof of the house and lands on the ground behind them. Derek squeezes his eyes closed and pretends he can’t hear or see it. “I can’t deal with it again. I can’t choose again. I won’t.”

“History has a habit of repeating itself, Scott.” Derek tells him, opening his eyes. And it’s true to some extent. Apart from Stiles falling in love with him again. It seems so far-fetched now that Derek can’t even put it in the realm of possibilities. Scott looks down at the ground and closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and Derek can hear his heart beat evenly in his chest even over the sound of the rain colliding with the ground at their feet. “But I didn’t push Stiles to do anything. I just thought… it would make him feel normal again. Before he met you, all he could talk about was Lydia. And it seemed like time had reset itself because there he was, looking at her again. And Lydia is single now.”

“Have you heard from Jackson?” Derek asks in an attempt to keep his anger pushed down and distract himself.

Scott nods. “Yeah. He hasn’t contacted you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, he’s back in town. That’s all he would tell me.” Scott grimaces in response as if Jackson had been an asshole to him or something. Derek wouldn’t put it past the other beta. Jackson never really accepted his gift, which Derek understands. He understands the resentment and the anger, because he used to feel it too. Part of him ached for a normal life when he was younger, but as he grew older and wiser he relaxed into it. Being a werewolf is who he is. It’s his identity, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. If he wasn’t, he would have never met Stiles. He’d have never met any of them.

“I guess I should expect him to turn up at some point.” Derek says.

“Probably.” Scott agrees.

“You gave me your blessing.”

Scott looks like he’s about to be sick. “I know I did. And I meant it, too. I still do.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Derek asks, looking at Scott like he’s never looked at him before. There’s pain in his eyes and a hint of the anger he’s trying to supress. Scott had come to their wedding, he’d been Stiles’ best man. Before everything happened. He spent time with both of them. He smiled when Stiles did. He smiled when Derek did. He was pack for a long time, until all of a sudden he wasn’t. And Derek doesn’t understand it anymore. How can Scott do this to him?

“You were good together. But Stiles can’t remember it. He can’t remember how he used to look at you.”

“I know. Lydia looks at him the exact same way.”

“You noticed.” Scott murmured under his breath. “Part of me wants to tell him to go back to you, because something about the two of them together feels _wrong._ But then I want him to be happy, Derek. Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I do.” Derek says like it’s the thing he’s most sure about in the world. “I let him go, didn’t I?

“You did. But Stiles didn’t take it very well.”

“What do you mean?” 

“He won’t talk to me.” Scott admits. The rain eases up a bit and the beta is opening his eyes fully and looking over at Derek and he looks so _sad._ “He’s ignoring my texts. I went to his house and his Dad told me to leave.”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“I know!” Scott barks. “But they were both awake. I listened first. He just… he wouldn’t let me come inside. He told me Stiles doesn’t want to see me for a while.”

“History repeating itself.” Derek remarks, a nasty tone to his voice. He stops himself before it gets worse and ends up sighing and looking up at his old home. “And Lydia?”

“She’s fine now. She was scared, obviously, but it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, you know? Two werewolves. I think she was just surprised to see _us_ fighting.”

“So was I.” Derek admits like he’s feeling guilty. Scott looks like he feels the same.

“Me too.” Scott smiles a bit like he’s trying not to. Derek feels himself smirking back.

“You’re an idiot.” Derek tells him but his heart isn’t really in it. He can sense Scott’s relief instantly, and a small feeling of happiness radiates from the beta.

“Sometimes.” Scott agrees. “All the time, recently.”

“Definitely.”

“Don’t push it.” Scott tells him, turning to look back at the old house like he’s reminiscing about something. “We spent a lot of time here.”

“I know.” Derek agrees, studying the structure and thinking back to the quote unquote good old days. “A lot of training.”

“Vigorous training, you mean. It was a nightmare.” Scott barks back. He’s quiet for a moment when Derek doesn’t respond, and then lowers his voice close to a whisper. “I miss it.”

“I don’t miss this house.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Scott tells him sincerely, glancing back down at the Alpha before him. Derek gets the feeling he has to brace himself for what’s about to come, so he does. “I mean, I miss it because we were all together. All of us. Stiles, Allison…. everyone. We were a family.”

“Some of us still are.” Derek remarks, but it looks like it hurts Scott in some way so he ends up backpedalling. “Families can grow over time.”

Scott looks at him with wide eyes. “You’d accept us back? Even Allison?”

“Yes.” Derek tells him but doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he feels unsettled by the idea. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and puts his hands in his pockets, not enjoying the way he’s soaked from head to toe. “But trust takes time to earn back.”

Scott seems to agree with that but he doesn’t voice it. They are quiet for a long time, content listening to the rain batter off the old house and erode the wood further. When Scott does speak, it surprises Derek. “What are you going to do?”

“About what?”

“About this mess.” Scott asks. “Between you and Stiles.”

“Nothing.”

“Derek, seriously? You’re not going to do anything?”

“No.” Derek says firmly. “I can’t force Stiles to be with me. He made that painfully clear tonight. If he doesn’t want to come home, then I’ll just learn to live with that.”

“You really just get off on being miserable, don’t you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Derek snaps but Scott holds his hands up at him in surrender.

“It means, if you want him back you have to fight for it. Instead of being like that.”

Derek shakes his head. “How am I supposed to do that when Stiles likes Lydia?”

“I’ll talk to Lydia.”

“And Stiles?”

“Well. Stiles won’t let me talk to him. I’m guessing he doesn’t want to talk to you either.” Scott hums thoughtfully, then pats Derek on the arm. Derek looks down at his hand like he’s offending him by touching him. “We’ll figure something out, Derek.”

And Derek is inclined to believe him.

Stiles makes a mess of his room. He might has well have set off a bomb or something because his papers are torn and scattered across the floor. He rips his college applications into pieces in the heat of the moment. He kicks his book back angrily, watching the camera fall out and onto the floor with a disgusting smash. Great, another thing for him to feel guilty about. Breaking Derek’s camera. Scott tries to come in the window twice, begging Stiles to let him explain. He doesn’t. There’s no way in hell he’s letting Scott inside his room right now. Scott actually tries the front door, too. Stiles’ dad barks at his friend, reminding him of what time it is, and closes the door in Scott’s face. It seems like Scott gives up after that. He sends a few texts to Stiles’ phone, which he ignores, because, no. He’s not talking to his best friend right now.

“Are you okay, kiddo?” His dad asks from behind his bedroom door. Stiles grunts in response and lets his legs collapse from under him. He sinks to the floor and bangs the back of his head against his closet. His dad opens the door and steps inside with an alarmed look on his face at the carnage that is currently his son’s bedroom. His eyes zone in on Stiles, currently lying in a heap on the floor. “Stiles.”

“Why is this happening to me?” Stiles groans, thinking back to the look on Derek’s face in the woods. There was nothing in his eyes. No love, no hatred. Just one big fat _nothing._ And Stiles _hurt_ because of it. He couldn’t let Derek go. His body wouldn’t let him. And for the first time neither would his mind. He couldn’t let Derek turn into an statue. He wouldn’t allow it.

But then he did. And now Stiles feels like a grade-A asswipe. Which was stupid since Derek was the one who crashed the party in the first place. He should be angry at the Alpha and not himself, but jesus, his brain just doesn’t work that way.

“What happened?” His dad asks as he crouches down in front of Stiles and takes a hold of his shoulders. His dad looks so concerned and worried that Stiles starts feeling even guiltier for putting his father through all of this.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” Stiles manages, but it’s quiet and somewhat choked. “I’m sorry for not wearing a seatbelt. I’m sorry for ending up in the hospital. I’m sorry I’m such a stupid idiot—”

“Hey, hey.” His dad shushes him. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Is it?” Stiles looks up at his dad hopefully, the Sheriff falters upon seeing his son.

“It will be.” His dad tells him. “You’ll see. Everything’s going to get better. It’ll just take time, son. And I’ll be here, whenever you need me to be.”

And Stiles starts crying then. It feels like all he’s done tonight is cry like a big baby. His dad says nothing and just squeezes his shoulders with a concerned look on his face. They talk for a while after before his dad goes to bed and Stiles is left standing in his bedroom with his own thoughts.

What the hell had happened back there anyway?

It was just supposed to be a stupid party. A party Stiles didn’t even want to attend in the first place. After a while, Stiles had felt himself looking towards the door and wishing Derek would walk through it. But he never did. And eventually Stiles gave up on the idea entirely and settled for indulging his best friend in a water fight. He had started to feel uneasy and his hand burned so intensely he’d dropped the gun on the ground. He was _sure_ Derek was there, somewhere, possibly lurking in the shadows. But when he scanned the trees behind the fence he couldn’t see anything. He had felt it again as he made his way through the house to the bathroom. Like something was causing him to gravitate towards the living room. He fought it, naturally, because Stiles is Stiles, and stomped up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom.

There was some kind of commotion outside after that. Stiles’ heart began to hammer inside his chest and echo in his ears. There was that feeling back again, and this time Stiles was _sure_ that Derek was there. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw them after he'd made his way through the back door. Scott and Derek were wrestling on the grass, obviously having crashed through the fence – and _completely obliterating it_ in the process, he might add. His best friend was on top of Derek, teeth bared and snarling, striking him in the chest. Derek hadn’t looked any less intimidating. He punched Scott in the head and lunged for his neck with his teeth. Stiles had had no choice but to stop them.

And then, because she could really pick her moments, Lydia was plastered to Stiles’ side. Her hand gripped at his and he had no choice but to hold her in place, both bewildered at the scene before them. It was like a moment in those movies where there’s a record scratch and everything goes silent. Erica was snarling next to him, but Boyd had been holding her back. The two werewolves on the grass looked kind of like two deer caught in headlights. Only a lot more scary. _Hell_ of a lot more scary. Terrifying, actually. Derek was watching Stiles from where he lay with a mortified expression in his face, like he’d forgotten he was King of being stoic and emoted everything he was feeling in that moment.

And Stiles had pushed Lydia away and ran off. Derek went after him, naturally, because of course the universe couldn’t let Stiles catch a break for two seconds. Stiles was _so_ angry. At everything. Even the trees. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. He’d lashed out at Derek and Derek had returned his anger with enthusiasm until all Stiles had left were tears.

Stiles still can’t understand it. Any of it. He sits down on the side of his bed and looks down at the sheets like they’re foreign to him now. Like he doesn’t belong there. He feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere. He doesn’t even know who he is. Why, out of everything he could have forgotten, did it have to be Derek? Stiles sighs and puts his face in his hands. He contemplates yelling obscenities into his pillow but doesn’t. Everything about this is just so _stupid._ And everything is over. Stiles doesn’t have to look at Derek’s face anymore and try to remember anything. He can go back to his old life and be the guy who makes his dad proud. Or, something like that. Stiles feels like he can’t even remember how to do that anymore.

He definitely feels _feelings_ for Derek, fine. There isn’t any denying it. But as a mate? He can’t see it. He’s come to terms with it, sure, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get out of it. Being tied to someone for the rest of his life sounds terrifying. And worse than that, he doesn’t want Derek to be tied to _him._ Stiles is… Stiles. Human, hyperactive, reckless, boring. Nothing like what Derek could get with that face and that body because—no. Not even going to go there. He can’t even bear the thought anymore. Like it doesn’t compute. Derek is better off without him and Stiles needs to get a grip. Plenty of other mates in the sea.

Except werewolves mate for life. Even if the bond breaks, it won’t for Derek. He’s stuck being miserable forever and it’s _all Stiles’ fault._

He leans back against the mattress with a heavy sigh and closes his eyes. He has another weird half-dream that he’s standing in the middle of the street in the rain. The smell of it is nauseating.

He forgives Scott a week later.

Delivered: 13:20. **To, Scotty:** _okay fine i give in, i forgive you for being a total asshole but this is the absolute last time, so you can stop howling at the moon every night because you’re driving the dog next door crazy. thnx_

After texting, Stiles’ thumbs hesitate over the screen. He scrolls to his contacts list and searches for ‘Derek’, but nothing comes up. He frowns down at the screen and wonders why the hell he wouldn’t have his own husband’s number. There’s a knock at his window and he looks up to see Scott half-perched on the roof with his phone in his hand looking extremely dishevelled. Like he’d sprinted straight there as soon as he read the text. His t-shirt is even on outside-in and the label is poking out at his neck.

And Stiles just rolls his eyes and lets him in, acting as if nothing has happened. Scott doesn’t bring it up and seems to enjoy the fact that Stiles is speaking to him again. Yeah, we’ll see how long it lasts before he tries to attack Derek again.

Except Derek doesn’t come back.

To anyone else, it’s like the Alpha never existed in the first place. But Stiles feels it in his bones. That weird and gnawing sense of absence because someone is missing from his life. He doesn’t hear from Derek whatsoever, and Scott doesn’t mention him. Even Erica doesn’t, but then again, Erica doesn’t really come over as often as she had before. Apparently she’s been hanging out with Lydia a lot more. Which is weird because Stiles always has the feeling Erica wants to kill the red-head whenever they’re together. Maybe he’s losing his werewolf mojo.

So, Stiles just… lives his life for the next couple of weeks. He plays video games with Scott, he goes out for food with Erica, he bickers with Lydia over his fashion sense, and that one time he sees Isaac, they share a pizza and watch some stupid soap opera on tv. None of them mention Derek. Isaac seems closest to it, though, like he’s just itching all over to talk about him. But he doesn’t in the end and Stiles is just about to lose his freaking mind at all of them.

He goes for groceries with his dad one Friday afternoon when he gets a day off. Stiles has the sneaking suspicion his dad just wanted to get them out of the house for a while. So, here they are, ready for some good old father and son grocery shopping. Please, someone shoot Stiles now.

He has a vision once they step out of the car into the parking lot, with his dad already going inside the store. Stiles can’t really identify what happens, but it feels like his face hurts like he’s been hit with a golf club right in the nose. He clutches at it and closes his eyes, trying to shake it off. Then there’s another flash and suddenly he sees himself lying flat on the ground looking at up the sky. There’s blood on his face and neck. He hears Scott snarling. There’s hands on his chest, grabbing at his shirt and pulling him into someone’s lap. There’s some threats that he can’t hear, but when his vision clears he sees Derek’s face full of panic. There’s another flash and its gone, and Stiles is left standing like a moron next to his dad’s squad car with a blank look on his face.

“Son?” His dad asks, peeking his head out of the store’s door. “You coming?”

“Yeah.” Stiles says immediately, shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes. What the hell was _that?_ Was that a memory? “Yeah, be right there.”

 _Was_ it a memory? Did Stiles just remember something? It was so _clear_. Okay, not really. But it was a lot clearer than these weird visions he’s been having before. And there was actually sounds this time. He could hear Derek’s voice threatening him. He wishes he could make it out, but he can’t. He doesn’t know what the Alpha says, but from the very real panic in his eyes, Stiles assumes whatever it was it isn’t good. He’ll have to ask Scott about it when he gets home.

About ten minutes into shopping, Stiles’ dad gets caught up talking to a friend from the station and abandons his cart in the middle of an aisle. Stiles takes it upon himself to commandeer it and make his way back around the store, returning things back to the shelves. Like things with too much salt or too much fat, because he’ll be damned if he’ll let his dad eat any of that stuff. He pauses for a while in the chilled section, holding a box of hot pockets in each hand and staring down at them as he tries to decide which kind to get. He finds himself thinking of Derek, and he ends up frowning.

“I didn’t think hot pockets could make someone so sad.”

Stiles jumps and looks behind himself to see who’s talking to him whilst he’s trying to make this current life or death decision. Allison. Stiles hasn’t seen her in nearly two months, but she pretty much looks like she always does. Her hair is cut shorter and it’s shaped around her shoulders. She’s still just as beautiful. She’s smiling at Stiles and fidgeting with one of her earrings. Stiles closes his mouth after realising he’s left it gaping open at her.

“Allison?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points to Isaac. Also, cliff hanger!


	7. Espérer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
> **Chapter Title Translation:** Espérer - Hope

**_THEN_ **

****

Stiles considered himself a patient person, at least when it mattered. He put up with a lot of bullshit his entire life and it made him immune to most situations. He even put up with Jackson and his constant jabs and snickering. He put up with all of it because Jackson was part of his pack – _their_ pack – and that was that. But now? Definitely not one of those times. Pack or not, there had to be a line drawn somewhere. And this, this was definitely it. This was so far over the line that the he couldn’t even see the line anymore.

It had started like any other day. Derek got up, made breakfast, and fed a very disgruntled not-a-morning-person Stiles Stilinski. They ate in peaceful silence until Stiles was no longer a zombie and could understand basic English. Then Stiles was chirping over at the Alpha, their hands joined together across the table. Derek had a smirk on his face that was hidden behind his mug. Derek had gone out late afternoon to meet with Boyd and Erica about a recent threat of hunters in the area. Isaac came over and kept Stiles company. They talked and ate pizza hot pockets and took a ride in Stiles’ jeep just to pass the time. And Stiles liked Isaac. A lot. He was probably his favourite pup, having taken him under his wing not too long ago. Derek was fond of him too, but he never really talked about it. Stiles could just tell.

When it was getting dark, Stiles kept checking his phone. They’d parked at the edge of a road and Isaac had insisted they listen to one of his CD’s, filled with a mixture of obscure rock songs. Stiles actually felt himself bobbing his head along to some of them. Derek hadn’t been in contact with him for hours and it was starting to eat away at Stiles. His body was twitching with nerves and Isaac was aware of it. He told Stiles it was probably nothing.

Then Isaac got a call from Erica who sounded agitated, barking through the speaker like she couldn’t get the words out. But the instruction was clear enough.

“Get Stiles over here. Right now.”

Stiles had never drove so fast in his life. He cut the ignition, spilled out of the car and ran into some abandoned warehouse just at the edge of town. It was dark and frightening not only because Stiles couldn’t work out the layout of it, but because as soon as he entered the building he could hear Derek shouting in pain. Isaac was hot on Stiles’ heels and eventually overtook him, leading them to where the calls were coming from.

Isaac crashed through the doors in front and Stiles wished he could erase the scene from his memory. It was chaos. Scott was holding on to a hysterical Allison at the far corner of the room away from the rest of them. Boyd and Erica were huddled over Derek, who was laying shirtless on the ground in the middle of the room writhing in pain. Stiles watched in disbelief at the black veins appearing over Derek’s bare abdomen, growing larger and longer and extending to the edge of his belt.

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat and he pushed past a frozen Isaac to get to the others. Derek’s eyes were flashing between blue and red by the time Stiles came crashing to his side. Boyd and Erica were holding down his arms as he worked through the pain of healing. There were two small holes on his chest that looked like bullet holes but they were shaped differently. Arrow holes. Stiles felt intense _rage_ spread through his chest and shoulders. The hunters.

“Stiles!” Erica blurted out, and her teeth were bigger than Stiles had ever seen them. “Do something!”

Stiles looked down at his heaving mate and panicked. He held Derek’s face in his hands and forced the Alpha to look at him. Derek was grimacing and breathing harsh but eventually his eyes met Stiles’. And then there was a soft rumbling in his chest and he moved like he was trying to sit up, like he had to protect his mate from something. Stiles shook his head firmly and Erica and Boyd tightened their grip on the Alpha’s arms.

“Derek.” Stiles croaked, not realizing how shaken he was until he spoke. One of his hands moved down and pressed against the Alpha’s chest, hating the way it shuddered against his palm. “We’re going to get you out of here. But you need to calm down first. Do you hear me?”

Derek made a noise like he was against the idea and rolled his shoulders against the concrete floor. The Alpha had stopped yelling at least, and Stiles pressed harder against his chest in hope that his touch, and his presence, _anything,_ would help him.

“It’s wolfsbane. We got it out.” Erica managed, struggling to hold the Alpha down.

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?” Stiles shot back.

“But there’s some residual effects.” Boyd told him, grimacing and struggled with Derek’s forearm against the ground. “As you can probably tell.”

“We have to get him out of here.” Stiles announced, and Derek made a sound like he really liked the sound of that. He was still convulsing but his breathing had become more steady. Abruptly, he grabbed Stiles’ wrist and squeezed it tight. Like he was trying to soak up as much of Stiles as he could from one touch. Like he wanted to keep him close. Like there was a threat in the air – or the air _was_ the threat. Stiles tensed under his grasp and quickly scanned the room, but there was only Allison and Scott a few metres away.

“I’ll carry him.” Scott spoke up suddenly, and Stiles glanced back to see him worming away from Allison and taking a step forward. The reaction from the others was both unexpected and frightening. Boyd, Erica and Isaac all growled at the exact same time and it felt like the walls vibrated around them. If Derek hadn’t been holding onto Stiles’ wrist like it was a lifeline, he might have covered his ears.

“Like hell you will!” Erica yelled. And she was _so_ angry. Just as Stiles was about to bite back and defend his friends, he was interrupted.

“I’ll take him.” Boyd said, watching as Derek’s body slowly began to relax under his mate’s palm. Stiles was forced to let him go to let Boyd pick the Alpha’s body up and hold him in his arms. Derek coughed up blood onto the front of Boyd’s shirt but Boyd didn’t seem to care in the slightest. The priority was to get Derek out of there.

Stiles gave Scott and Allison a strange look when he passed them, trying to communicate _what the hell did you two do?,_ before following after Boyd who was carrying his mate in his arms. He didn’t understand what happened back there, but he was sure as hell going to find out. Derek struggled in Boyd’s arms like he was trying to get down to walk for himself. But then Stiles realised the Alpha was actually trying to find _him_. Derek’s eyes locked onto Stiles, who was still following closely behind Boyd and extremely choked up. Derek looked pained. But Stiles knew it wasn’t because he was injured, but because Stiles was distraught.

They took Derek back to the loft in Stiles’ jeep. Erica drove and Boyd sat with her in the front. Derek was lying across the seats in the back with his head in Stiles’ lap. Allison and Scott were suspiciously absent. Isaac, ridiculously, rode on the top of the jeep’s roof and dug his claws in so deep that Stiles could see them from inside the car. If there hadn’t been more pressing matters, Stiles would have protested about the damage to his precious Betty. But he didn’t care right now. Derek’s eyes were fluttering closed and he pressed his face against Stiles’ thigh. Stiles could feel warm breath hit his knees, and he slid his hand into the Alpha’s hair. Nobody said a word until they arrived at the loft. Boyd managed to carry Derek up the stairs without complaint and lay him down on the sofa.

Stiles took over then. He ordered the others to get their first-aid kits and whatever blankets they could find. Derek was more coherent by that time, and he was actually whining. But it didn’t sound like him, it sounded more primal. Like he was fighting with the shift. Stiles knew better – he knew the wolfsbane was messing with his body. He’d saw it happen before and it wasn’t pretty. But now Derek had a mate to look after him, make him stronger. And that’s just what Stiles intended to do.

He cleaned and dressed the wounds on Derek’s chest and arms, bandaging them despite the fact he’d probably heal within the next few hours. At some point, when he was focused on applying tape to the padding on the Alpha’s chest, Derek’s hand slid into his hair and tugged. Stiles leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Derek’s cheek, feeling himself getting warmer when he felt the Alpha press his nose against his neck and inhale. It felt like a small thank you. Stiles wanted to tell Derek he didn’t ever have to thank him for anything.

Erica was stomping around the loft and throwing things when Stiles remembered that she did, in fact, still exist. Boyd was watching her carefully and Isaac was sitting with his eyes closed on the floor, like he was making a half-assed attempt to guard the door. Stiles rose to his feet and moved away from Derek, who seemed like he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

“Does someone want to tell me what the hell happened back there?” Stiles began, and he tried to keep his cool, he really did. But something inside him snapped, like everything he’d bottled up upon seeing Derek injured was finally spilling out of him. “Somebody tell me what the _hell_ happened!”

Erica didn’t stop her pacing and stomping. Her boots made a noise on the floorboards that caused Stiles’ ears to ring. “Your stupid mutt of a best friend happened!”

“What?” Stiles froze. Did _Scott_ do this to Derek? There was… just no way. There was no way. “Scott did _this_?”

“No.” Boyd interjected. Even though he was standing still, Stiles could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. “His hunter girlfriend did.”

“I just knew something was going on with them, I just knew it!” Erica continued as if Boyd hadn’t said anything at all. As if he hadn’t shattered half of Stiles’ life in so few words. “She was acting weird _all day_ yesterday! If I hadn’t followed her—if I hadn’t sensed something was wrong, who knows where Derek would be right now!”

“Why—why would Allison want to hurt Derek?” Stiles asked and blinked hard at Boyd because Erica seemed to be too angry to hold any coherent thoughts.

“She didn’t just _hurt_ him, she—” Boyd began, but Erica interrupted him with a snarl.

“She _tortured_ him!”

“She _what?_ ” Stiles couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t. “Why?”

“Probably to avenge that mass-murdering aunt of hers.” Isaac said, opening his eyes and Stiles could see the grief in them.

But… Allison was part of the pack. And Scott’s girlfriend. It didn’t make any sense. “And Scott?”

“Suspiciously absent, wouldn’t you agree?” Boyd remarked.

Stiles shook his head. No. It couldn’t be. Something, _someone,_ had to be wrong. Scott wouldn’t do that. But Allison… Stiles knew what it was like to lose a family member. And he knew what kind of pressures and reservations Allison faced about being a hunter of werewolves and _dating_ a werewolf simultaneously. But this? Kidnapping, torture? It didn’t just hurt Derek. It hurt Stiles. And she had to have known that. She rejected her status in the pack and went behind their backs and attacked their Alpha. Stiles’ mate.

If Stiles could growl, he would have.

Isaac was rising to his feet stiffly by the time Stiles had resigned himself to the new information. “Scott is here.”

Erica lunged for the door but Boyd held her back. “Let’s hear what he has to say. He might have not even known until we got there.”

“We have to hear him out.” Stiles agreed, glancing back at Derek who was still lying on his back on the sofa, his chest rising up and down steadily. He could do this. Scott wasn’t the bad guy, he never was. Scott detested bad guys. And his best friend couldn’t ever have known, right? There wasn’t any way.

The loft door slid open and Scott stood outside looking like he’d been through hell and back again, stopping off for a quick hello before going for another round. Erica was growling low and deep from somewhere inside her little body, and Boyd looked like he was trying not to bare his teeth. Isaac stepped to the side and let Scott enter the room. He took a few steps towards Stiles but stopped a few feet away from him. Stiles remained where he was, standing in between Scott and Derek, just in case.

“I didn’t know.” Scott announced. There was a beat of silence where the werewolves listened to the beating of Scott’s heart and the sound of his steady breathing. Stiles looked to Boyd, who met his eyes and nodded. The truth.

“What the hell, Scott?” Stiles barked.

“Why didn’t you come here with us?” Boyd asked suddenly, and Stiles shut his mouth because, yeah, that was a good question. Better than all the obscenities Stiles had prepared to fly out of his own mouth.

“I stayed with Allison. She was pretty shaken up.”

“Oh, shaken up, really?” Stiles snapped back angrily. He gestured behind himself to Derek still on the sofa. “’Cause Derek’s having such a good time back there. Are you kidding me, Scott?”

“She’s my—” Scott started, but Stiles cut him off with a sharp huff.

“She’s your what? Because she’s definitely not your mate, Scott!” Stiles was panting then, his cheeks red with the intensity of it all. He pointed towards Derek. “But Derek is mine! Do you have any idea how it feels? Do you?”

“No.” Scott admitted, looking guiltier by the second. But there was a fire in his eyes like he was ready to defend himself if Erica did actually pounce on him. And he deserved it. “But I couldn’t just leave her. I love her.”

“I love Derek!” Stiles barked back.

“We all do.” Isaac agreed. He was hovering by the doorway like he was trying to listen if Allison or any other hunters were close by. Scott started growling then like he was feeling like he was being ganged up on.

“She’s been through a lot! And Derek killed her aunt in cold blood!”

“You mean like her aunt killed Derek’s _whole family?_ ”

“Allison didn’t know that! Do you think she’d do something like this if she did?” Scott barked back, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Stiles, the hunters, they’re not what you think.” He slowly leaning down into a crouch. It was supposed to be something similar to a bow of respect between werewolves. Stiles scowled down at him. “They’re trying to help us.”

“By killing us?” Erica scoffed.

“No. There’s a truce.” Scott told her, then returned his attention back to Stiles. It seemed like his friends opinion was the one he was most worried about. “Allison just got a little out of control.”

“A little.” Stiles shook his head angrily. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe her. You’re supposed to be my friend. You’re supposed to be my _best_ friend.”

“I am.” Scott told him before he rose to his feet and looked at Stiles with intent. “Stiles. You should come with me. Come back with me and we can talk about this.”

“If you think I’m going anywhere with you then you’re an idiot.” Stiles snapped and took a step forward to get in his face. “And I’m not going anywhere near the Argents.”

“Go scurry back to them, mutt.” Erica ordered, prompting Scott to snarl but he didn’t take his attention off of Stiles.

“Stiles, please.” Scott grabbed Stiles’ arms. “Don’t do this.”

There was a rumbling sound from behind them. Like a low growl, getting louder by the second. Erica’s eyes went wide. Stiles looked behind himself and saw Derek standing up, visibly struggling, but the look on his face was absolutely no joke. His eyes were glowing a dark red and he had his teeth bared. He looked the most threatening Stiles had ever witnessed. Scott’s grip tightened on Stiles’ arms as he attempted to get Stiles to go with him. Derek roared at Scott. Like, actually _roared._ All teeth and no waiting. He was glaring at Scott like he was about to leap right over Stiles and kill him. All the werewolves in the room seemed to duck down slightly in response. Except for Scott, who kept a hold of Stiles.

Derek was protecting Stiles the only way he could. There was no way the Alpha would allow Scott to take him. And there was no way in _hell_ Stiles would go.

“Stiles, please.” Scott begged.

Derek looked at Stiles then, and Stiles got the feeling the Alpha might actually _let_ him go if that’s what he wanted. But this was where he belonged, and he wasn’t about to give up on it for anyone.

Stiles turned back around to face Scott and shook his head. “No. No. We’re done here.”

“Stiles…” Scott had a pained look on his face. Stiles could hear Derek panting from behind them.

Stiles shook his arms out of his friend’s hold and took a step back. He kept backing up until he collided with Derek’s chest. The Alpha’s growling lessened pretty quickly as soon as Stiles was near him again. A warm hand gripped at the back of his bicep and Stiles inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were cold and hard and determined. “Get out.”

“Please.” Scott continued to beg, but Stiles wasn’t having it. Scott had made his choice and Stiles was making his.

“You heard him.” Derek used his voice but it was quiet and distorted from both the healing and the raw anger bubbling in his chest. He tightened his hold on Stiles’ arm.

“Go.” Stiles told him with a shaking breath. “Don’t come back.”

For the first time in his life, Scott actually listened. He backed up all the way to the door and disappeared down the stairwell and off into the night. All Stiles could do was turn around and put his arms around Derek and breathe deeply, wishing that everyone would just leave them alone.

**__ **

**_NOW_ **

****

“Allison?”

“Hi.” Allison smiles but it doesn’t touch her eyes. She’s standing awkwardly in front of Stiles with one hand clutching the basket she’s holding. There’s some fruit and a couple of boxes of veggie burgers in it. Stiles makes a face.

“You’re a vegetarian now?”

“I have been for a year now.” Allison informs him, but again her smile doesn’t touch her eyes at all. “You’re not?”

“What? No.” Stiles raises an eyebrow before decidedly throwing both of the boxes of hot pockets into his cart. “No, was I?”

“Yes. We started at the same time.”

“Why would I do that?”

Allison shrugs. “Because you said you see enough blood at home and you didn’t need to see it again on the dinner plate.”

“Oh.” That… actually makes a lot of sense somehow. After a moment of deliberation, Stiles picks the pepperoni hot pockets out of his cart and puts them back in the chiller. Come to think of it, whenever Derek served him food there wasn’t ever meat in it. Except in the hot pockets, naturally, but Stiles can’t understand why he never noticed it before. Allison laughs softly at him. Her hair sways back and forth as she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, you know.” She says. “For not coming to see you. I just… didn’t think it’d be appropriate.”

“Scott told me your dad wouldn’t let you.” Stiles says, but now he sees it was clearly a lie and that he’s going to punch his friend in the face the second he lays eyes on him.

“Well, yeah. That too.” Allison grimaces a bit. “He doesn’t exactly agree with the company I keep.”

“Allison.” Stiles says firmly, his lips pressed into a firm line. Because, the lying? Has to stop. “I’ve survived the last two months with everybody lying to me, I can’t survive another person doing it.”

Allison’s face falls at that. Like all attempts at polite small talk get whisked away. “You really don’t remember anything?”

Stiles shakes his head at her.

Allison sighs. “I really didn’t want to experience this conversation twice.”

“Well, I guess you’re about to.”

“Stiles, I wasn’t myself. I know it’s no excuse. But I really… I wasn’t myself.” Allison speaks quietly, like she’s ashamed of herself. “And I was going through a lot. I think I lost my mind for a while after my aunt died.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles says it genuinely, having no idea what is about to come next. “What happened to her?”

“Derek killed her.”

“He _what?_ ” Stiles barks, then realises how loud it is and scans the aisle for any on-lookers. He’d just progressed from _Stiles Stilinksi, Alpha Mate,_ to _Stiles Stilinksi, Murder Accomplice._

“No.” Allison stops his panic in its tracks. “She tried to kill him. She’s the one who burned down his house. She killed his family.”

Stiles hadn’t given much thought into what happened to Derek’s family. All he could gather from what Derek had told him was that they weren’t around anymore, apart from one sister and Peter. But they were _murdered_. Stiles felt his chest begin to ache in pain for the Alpha. He’d been through so much, and Stiles had only made it worse.

“But she was still family. And I didn’t find out about that until after...” Allison continues, like it’s hurting her just as much. “I didn’t know what she’d done until it was too late. The damage was done.”

“Allison.” Stiles presses. “What did you do?”

“I hurt Derek. Badly.”

Stiles feels anger bubble inside his chest in an instant at the idea. “How badly?”

“Bad enough that the you and the others had to take him home.” Allison admits. “I lured him into a warehouse under the illusion that I’d seen hunters in the area. After that, I… I shot him with arrows soaked in wolfsbane.”

“What the—” Stiles starts, his anger consuming him. But it’s short-lived because he sees his dad make his way around the corner and spot them. Stiles shoots a look at Allison that screams _this conversation isn’t over._ She seems to understand. She politely says hello to the Sheriff before shuffling down the aisle and disappearing.

“Everything okay?” Stiles’ dad asks him once they’re alone. Like he’s afraid of something. Stiles now understands what it is.

“Yeah. Everything’s just peachy.”

Stiles manages to go about the rest of the trip without any notable complaints. He’s completely silent in the car ride on the way home, staring out of the window at the passing trees like they’ve all just smacked him upside the head and called him an asshole. He may or may not be scowling. His dad, for whatever reason, doesn’t say anything the entire journey. The Sheriff continues his imitation of a mute when they get home and put the groceries away. It isn’t until he’s unpacking the last bag that he looks down, confused.

“Where are the goldfish crackers?”

And Stiles just about loses his mind right there. Because _goldfish crackers_ are more important right now than, I don’t know, the fact this _his best friend lied to him?,_ apparently. Or the fact that Scott had been lying to him this entire time. Everybody had been lying to him. Even Derek! Somebody who was supposed to be his mate! What the hell, seriously? Lying to your mate? Stiles was pretty sure that was against the rules somehow. Not that there was a handy _How to Be a Mate for Dummies_ he could just consult whenever he felt like it.

His dad, however, didn’t even seem to notice his one and only son was having a mental breakdown across the kitchen table. “I could have sworn I put some in the cart. And, where’s the pizza?” His dad continued to search the paper bag like he was Mary Poppins or something and there was some kind of magic hiding underneath. Like he’d pull out a six pack of beers and maybe a bunny with a top hat whilst he was at it.

“I put them back.” Stiles tells him from the side lines like he’s trying to slowly inch out of the kitchen and make himself invisible. “On the shelf. Too much salt."

“And you’re making these decisions for my health or your own?”

“I’m going to Scott’s.” Stiles announces from the hall. He doesn’t wait for a response before he’s pretty much falling out the front door, tripping down the steps and flailing down the street. Scott hears him coming, naturally, because apparently his best friend is intent on annoying Stiles. Scott is standing at the edge of the driveway when Stiles skids to a stop in front of him. His hair is tousled and messy like he’s been rolling around in a big pile of leaves like a dog. Stiles wouldn’t put it completely out of the realm of possibilities, really.

“Stiles?” Scott asks, alarmed. Stiles feels like that is the perfect time to scoff in his friend’s face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“No, I am not _okay,_ Scott. I am the furthest thing from okay that I could ever be!”

Scott gives him a strange look but his eyes are wide with alarm. Stiles blows out a frustrated puff of hair, like he can’t believe his best friend is so cool, calm and collected about all of this. His mind is on fire, like he has to protect something. Anything. Since Derek apparently decided he’d just drop off the edge of the earth lately, Stiles settles for pretending he’s there. But that just ends up making his anger worse. A lot worse. He feels a weird twinge in his gums. If he had fangs, he’s sure they’d be making themselves known now.

“Guess who I ran into today, Scott?” Stiles barks, and Scott seems really taken back. But it doesn’t seem to be in reaction to his friend’s words, no, it looks like Scott is _scared_ Stiles is going to hurt him. A human hurting a werewolf? Puh-lease. “Allison! I saw _Allison!_ ”

Scott understands immediately. “She told you?”

“Well, I was hoping you could clear it up for me.” Stiles says, then shoves at his friend’s shoulder so hard the werewolf actually stumbles backwards. He lands on his ass with a grunt, looking at his shoulder and clutching it with the opposite hand. He looks up at Stiles with alarm, and, god, if his eyes got any bigger Stiles was sure they’d pop out of their sockets. Stiles knows he isn’t really that strong, and Scott must be just too in shock to really defend himself. “Since you’ve been lying to me this entire time!”

“Stiles—” Scott says breathlessly, rising to his feet with a pained grunt. Huh. He actually looks hurt. Physically.

“Don’t ‘Stiles’ me. Tell me what happened _right now_ , because in case you didn’t notice I can’t remember anything!”

Scott hesitates. “Allison hurt Derek. Real bad. Really bad. Erica was furious. So were you.” Stiles motions for him to continue but it ends up looking like some kind of lame karate move. Scott gets the hint though, because he keeps going. “She didn’t mean it. I mean… she did, but not like that. She thought Derek had just killed Kate in cold blood."

“Kate?”

“Her aunt.” Scott says, and oh. Okay. Still no face to the name but at least Stiles can work with it. “And she was angry. She didn’t know what Kate had done before. I told her afterwards, but it was already too late. The damage had been done.”

“That’s why you left the pack, isn’t it?” Stiles waves his arms in the air. It seems comical but it really, really isn’t. “Not because you didn’t like Derek.”

“Yes.” Scott tells him, then looks away. “Banished is more like it.”

“Derek banished you from the pack?”

“He didn’t have to.” Scott says then with an edge to his voice. Stiles does nothing but glare at him. “You pretty much made the decision for him. And no one was about to argue my case, because, well, Allison is my girlfriend. I love her. And you didn’t want to talk to me or see me again.”

“You told me it was because I married Derek!” Stiles exclaims. He can see Melissa peering out of the downstairs window now, watching them argue. Bless her, though, because she doesn’t even try to intervene. He figures she knows what it’s about. Everybody knows. Stiles didn’t know anything for so long – he didn’t even know who he was. And now… now it’s like he has to start all over again.

“I lied.” Scott admits. Yeah, no _shit._ “I wanted you in my life. You’re my best friend. And when you got hurt and I came to the hospital, the rest of them acted like nothing had happened. Because you were hurt and nothing was more important than protecting you.”

“So, what? You used my accident to rewrite the past?”

“ _No._ ” Scott says firmly. “I betrayed the pack. I betrayed you. By going back to Allison, back to the Argents. And I’m sorry for that. Allison is sorry, too, Stiles. She is.”

“It’s a little late for ‘sorry’!”

“It isn’t.” Scott tells him, letting go of his shoulder and turning to look at his mom through the window. “And I am sorry, Stiles. I’m sorry for everything. Not just this, but for the accident and what happened to you. For pushing you away from Derek.”

“Scott…” Stiles starts, but can’t find it in himself to continue. Melissa is starting to look worried now, and she disappears behind the drapes but shockingly doesn’t appear at the door. “Scott, I don’t even know who I _am._ I’m trying to find my way back to myself, and you… You’ve been _lying_ to me this entire time. About something so big it cost us our friendship.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry, yeah. Sorry isn’t going to bring my memories back, Scott!”

“You said you don’t want them to come back.” Scott says quietly, like he’s on the verge of tears. Stiles knows the feeling.

“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind after all of this.” Stiles barks back. “You know what? Just. Just stay away from me.”

“Stiles.” Scott tries to reach for him but Stiles steps back with his hands up in defence. Scott stops trying immediately with a pained look on his face. Because, no, Stiles can’t deal with this right now. Not now. Not after everything. He needs support and he needs family, but not like this. Never like this.

“No. We’re done here.”

Something about his words seem to cut Scott in half. His face contorts and he bows his head. Stiles turns around and walks away, clutching at his hand and wishing, _wishing,_ he’d kept the ring on his finger because he could really use some support from someone right now. Even if that someone is MIA right now.

15:35. **Scott:** _Stiles knows_

Derek looks down at the phone in his hand. Wordlessly, he shuts it off and puts it on the dining table. Peter is watching him with guarded eyes. Shaking his head, Derek looks back at his uncle. There’s a quiet sense of understanding between them. Peter pushes himself up from where he’s sitting and walks out of the loft.

Weeks pass. Days turn into night and night turns into day. Stiles lives, barely. He talks to his dad, he does things a son should do like cutting the grass and making breakfast. It’s been months since his accident now, and Stiles doesn’t feel any closer to understand anything. The memories don’t come back. But the visions are stronger than ever. He has a couple a day now, when he’s doing something ridiculously mundane like taking out the trash or washing the dishes. Sometimes they’re detailed but most of the time they’re vague and distorted and Stiles finds himself clutching at his own head when his dad finds him one Wednesday night after he comes home from work.

So he tells his dad about the visions. His dad is quiet as he sits and listens. Stiles tells him about the one he had that day in the parking lot of the grocery store. He tells him about the one he had today, just sitting on the sofa when he clocked out. There is a flash of white light and Stiles is teleported into somewhere cold and dark and he’s shivering. Oh, yeah, and the visions had started _feeling_ like things. He could tell if it was warm or freezing now. But this one is different. It was probably the most detailed one he’s ever had.

Hale house, his dad tells him in a soft voice. Stiles had been transported to the house where Derek used to live. And it just looks so _sad._ Things are falling apart and there is pieces of wood and torn fabric strewn across the floors like nobody’s been there in years. There’s a small lamp in the corner and it suddenly flicks itself on and the whole room changes. Like he travels through time until it’s no longer messy and the floors have been cleaned. Derek is standing in front of Stiles with his back to him, dressed in a white wife beater with paint all over it. Blue paint. He’s painting the walls. Stiles looks down at himself and realises he’s covered in paint too. They are painting together.

“You gonna just stand there?” Derek’s voice echoes in Stiles’ head. The Alpha turns around then and there’s a smile on his face Stiles didn’t even think he was capable of making.

And just like that, the vision is gone. And Stiles is alone again, staring at the tv. His dad doesn’t really say anything at all, to be honest. Until he’s forcing Stiles to see a psychotherapist at the police station. Stiles protests, because of course he does, because the last thing he needs is someone poking around his fragile brain. But, it’s actually kind of helpful. The therapist – a woman with a constant stern look on her face and hair as dark as night – actually _listens_ to what Stiles tells her. He talks and talks and talks until he’s blue in the face. And she just sits and takes it, doing nothing but scribbling things down every now and then.

“Have you talked to him since that night?” She – Marin, her name is – asks one day during their third session. Stiles has been fidgeting with the sleeve of his overshirt for the past five minutes in agonizing silence whilst Marin flicks through his file.

“Who?” Stiles asks even though he already knows the answer.

“Derek.” Marin looks at him but her face is guarded, because, hey, she’s technically a shrink who can’t get too close to her clients. “Have you spoken to him since that night in the woods? After the party?”

Stiles hesitates visibly and he’s sure Marin is about to scribble it down in her notebook. _Stiles, 2:35pm, hesitated._ He really doesn’t want to look at his file. Like ever. Truth be told, Stiles hasn’t really spoken to anyone. Not really. Apart from Erica and Isaac, who had pushed their way into Stiles’ bedroom late one night and told him to grow a pair. Okay, so mostly that was just Erica. Isaac just gave him this _look_ and Stiles had no choice but to crumble. Neither of them mention Derek at all, or Scott.

One night, Stiles cracks and asks Erica about Derek. Erica is more than informative, like she’d been waiting on Stiles to ask. But she doesn’t go into too many details about anything, simply answering Stiles’ questions. There’s an uncomfortable expression on her face when she does and Stiles for the life of him can’t figure her out. Who’s side is she on, anyway? Because she’s been spending a lot of time with Stiles instead of her own Alpha. He almost chokes on the cookie he’s eating when Erica tells him that an Alpha’s mate is just as important as the Alpha himself. So, yeah, there’s that.

Erica tells him about _that_ night, too. It sounds like she tells him everything from start to finish without leaving anything out. Stiles has no choice but to listen intently, but ends up staring at his palms when he learns that he was the one who saved Derek. Stitched him up, kept his cool, sent Scott away. He looks at his own hands like they don’t belong to him. Erica takes one of them into her own and squeezes, and Stiles gives her a small smile.

“Stiles?”

Oh. Right. Marin. Therapy. Get with the program, Stiles. “No. No, I haven’t.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider that decision.” Marin comments and pushes her glasses further up her nose with her index finger. “Otherwise, you’ll be stuck right where you are. Never moving forward. How does that make you feel?”

“Paralysed.” Stiles says, surprisingly himself. Obviously he surprises Marin too because she stops writing whatever she’s been writing.

“Paralysis comes with a lot of complications. Feeling out of control, trapped inside yourself. Never able to move around and do what you really want to do.” Marin says, and Stiles almost accuses her of being a mind reader. “But in your case, it doesn’t have to be permanent.”

“It feels like it’s permanent.” Stiles admits. He looks down at the woman’s desk. “It feels like I’m, I don’t know, suspended in time. Or like I’m stuck in a swimming pool and can’t swim, so I just keep sinking.”

“Why do you think you’re sinking, Stiles?”

“I don’t know. You’re the therapist.” Stiles snaps back, then catches himself. “You’re supposed to be telling _me_ that.”

“My job isn’t to tell you how to think.” Marin says suddenly. “But my suspicion is that you don’t really want your memories back.”

“I—” Stiles stammers, looking appalled that this woman has just looked right through him.

“Well?” Marin prompts, like she’s so damn pleased with herself. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes.” Stiles snaps back instantly. It’s so instant, actually, that he shuts his mouth as he realises what he’s just said. Marin is smiling at him now. He really _does_ want his memories back. He does! Ha! Take that amnesia! “Yes. You’re wrong. I want my memories back. I want my life back.”

“Your life never went anywhere, Stiles. You just decided you didn’t want to live it.”

“That’s not fair!” Because, hellooo? Amnesia.

“Is it?” Marin asks like she already knows the answer. Damn shrinks. “Because from what I’ve learned about you, Stiles, is that everybody in your life clearly cares about you. And they want to see you get better. You’re the one who’s been lagging behind.”

“I—”

“I think you should consider the possibility that your memories might not come back at all.” Marin interrupts him. And what happened to this being a _talking_ therapy? You know, with _two_ people talking. Not just one. “And also consider that it doesn’t matter if they do or not. Your life is still there waiting for you, when you’re ready.”

Stiles thinks about it all the way home. He doesn’t stop thinking about it even when he pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine to his jeep. Is it really that simple? Has Stiles been so stupidly dense to see that his life has been staring at him in the face this entire time? He’s been fighting hard against himself and his own body trying to find some freedom. He’s been fighting ever since he woke up in that damn hospital bed staring at Derek’s stupid big eyebrows. Has he backed himself into a corner? The others flocked around him when he got out the hospital and they all wanted to be by his side and he’d welcomed most of it with open arms. But, Derek isn’t like that. Derek didn’t pressure Stiles into anything, not even friendship. And Stiles had ran away from him. He’d ran straight into the brick wall of reality where his life might not actually be all sunshine and rainbows like he’d hoped it would be.

Truth be told, Stiles _does_ feel trapped. Marin is right, as much as he hates to admit it. But he realises now that he only feels trapped inside himself. He can’t even let himself give in to his own instincts. He couldn’t bear the thought of being tied to Derek for eternity, because it scared him. It scared him to belong to someone like that. But as he looked closer and saw could see how much Derek was in pain and hiding it from him, Stiles _hurt._ He hurt in places he didn’t even know he could. Somewhere inside his chest. Somewhere outside of his own body, like his own aura was tainted. And then there’s the way Derek _smelled_ when he was sad. Stiles hated it. It’s the worst thing in the world. Well, not exactly the worst. The worst was when Derek had ordered Stiles to let him go that night in the woods. And Stiles _hurt_ again somewhere inside his soul.

To finalise, Stiles calls himself an idiot, gets out of the car and goes into his house.

Or tries to.

Because there’s suddenly a dark figure standing in front of the garage with glowing eyes like some kind of cat. Stiles jumps about fifty feet in the air and scrambles around to the back of his jeep to duck down and hide. The figure emerges from the shadows revealing a very smug looking Peter Hale. Stiles scoffs and makes a face at him from where he’s cowering next to the trunk of his car.

“Good evening, Stiles.” Peter says, and jesus christ, what a stupid voice. Stiles pushes away from his jeep, annoyed, and scowls over at the creeping werewolf. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, cut the crap.” Stiles pats himself down to get rid of invisible dust on his hoodie. “Ha ha, very funny, scaring the human. Very nice.”

“I got you good.” Peter grins.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“So I’ve heard.” Peter replies, and suddenly Stiles can see the weird resemblance he has to Derek. It’s hidden in the hard edges of his appearance, but Stiles can see it. There’s a familiar pang in his chest at the sight. “How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you sooner, I was out of town.”

“Congratulations.” Stiles scoffs. “You graduated from small town stalker to big city creep. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

Peter does nothing but roll his eyes at that. Stiles, for some reason, really wants to choke the life out of him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“How am I?” Stiles mocks him, then turns around and starts making his way to the house. He can feel Peter following from behind. “Hmm, let’s see. I was in a car accident, lost my memories of pretty much every single important thing that’s ever happened to me, found out my friends are all big fat liars. Am I missing anything?”

Peter’s laugh sounds from behind Stiles and it aggravates him so much he stops in his tracks and spins around to glare. Peter almost collides with him. “You certainly didn’t forget how to use sarcasm.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that would be a real travesty.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have somewhere else to be, like, I dunno, peeing on a fire hydrant?”

“I came to see how your therapy was going.”

Okay, _stalker._ “How did you know about that?”

“Just answer my question, Stiles.”

Stiles throws his hands up in the air and Peter does nothing but smirk down at him. “ _Fine!_ It’s going fine.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Stiles.”

“What do you want from me?” Stiles asks, knowing their ‘discussion’ is getting louder by the second. And his dad is home. “What do you want me to tell you? That I’m feeling a lot better? That I finally accepted my memories aren’t coming back? That I actually want to live the life that was given to me instead of fighting it?”

“You pretty much just told me all of it.” Peter says and Stiles is just _ugh_ so much right now. “What about Scott? What about the Argents?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles lies. There’s a shuffle from inside the house and he hopes it’s his dad about to swoop in and save him from this nightmare of a conversation. Peter is tense and _huge_ in front of him, but he’s a little smaller than Derek, so, _ha._ That’s when he notices the shirt he’s wearing is loose around his chest and sagging around his waist. He recognises the shirt itself too. “Are you wearing Derek’s shirt?”

Peter falters visibly before he can stop himself. Ladies and gentleman, it’s Stiles 1, Peter Hale 0.

“You _are._ ” Stiles says it like it’s the best discovery since the inception of Star Wars. “He’s still in Beacon Hills? Have you seen him? Is he—?”

“Why do you care?” Peter snaps back, suddenly not having any more of Stiles’ babbling. It actually makes Stiles falter for a moment. “You’ve moved on from my nephew. You don’t get to ask me these questions anymore.”

“I’ve—”

“Enough.” Peter commands, and Stiles goes silent. “I came here to make sure you’re doing okay, not answer your questions about Derek. Especially since you made your choice and left him.”

“I didn’t—” Stiles begins, but is interrupted by the sound of his front door opening. He swivels around comically and accidentally presses his back up against Peter’s chest. And, _god,_ he’s all warm and _gross._ Stiles jumps at the contact and ends up stumbling on the grass. It’s all a bit embarrassing, really. Peter doesn’t lend him a hand because he’s clearly still an asshole.

“Peter Hale.” His dad says, one hand firmly on the doorknob and lips pressed into a tight line. “What do you want with my son at this hour?”

“It’s nothing, dad, Peter just stopped by to—”

“I was just leaving, Sheriff.” Peter interrupts. Then he turns around and walks away. But he doesn’t open the fence at the end of the garden like a regular person, he _jumps_ over it, seemingly just because he can. Then disappears into the night. And _stupid freaking werewolves._

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” His dad asks once Stiles is back in the safety of his own house.

“Nope. Not even a little bit.” Stiles tells him honestly, before climbing up the stairs and going to hide in his room. He hears his dad call his name, demanding an explanation, but the only one he’s willing to give is the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut.

“He’s starting to smell different.”

“What, like bad?”

“No, you stupid mutt.” Erica pinches her nose and sighs. “Just different. It’s hard to describe. Of course, I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t screwed everything up with that hunter girlfriend of yours.”

Scott makes a face like he wants to sink his teeth into Erica’s neck, but he doesn’t. Derek tenses for it regardless, and is left feeling kind of disappointed when he doesn’t. Blowing off some steam might do them all a world of good right now.

“Different how?” Derek asks from where he’s standing with his arms crossed. Erica and Scott are sitting on the sofa as far apart as physically possible. They’re both angled away from one another and have their arms crossed. Isaac is watching silently from the side lines, like he doesn’t know how to deal with the conflict. He still has a lot to learn about being in a pack.

“Like something has changed. I don’t know.” Erica shakes her head.

“Yeah, now he knows what happened. What _really_ happened.” Isaac interjects. He seemingly doesn’t enjoy the way both Erica and Scott shoot him a look. “That’s bound to change a person.”

“It didn’t happen before.” Scott says.

“He had Derek before, idiot. Now he doesn’t because of you.” Erica snaps, and Scott starts snarling. Erica looks like she’s been waiting for it, though, because suddenly she’s standing and baring her elongated teeth at the beta. Derek starts growling.

“Enough.” He commands, and Erica looks at him like he’s just asked her to do a hundred burpees. “Let it go. Scott is with us now.”

“We don’t get any say in this?” Erica spits.

“No.” Derek’s voice is firm and strong and Erica has no choice but to slowly sit back down on the sofa and look like she’s ready for it to swallow her up whole. Scott looks at Derek like he’s the sun. Derek nods softly over at him before clearing his throat. “Isaac. What changed about Stiles’ scent?”

Isaac shrugs from where he’s standing and then pushes himself off the wall and takes a few steps forward so he’s standing under the lights. “It’s… calmer somehow. It’s hard to describe. It’s like he’s relaxed more.”

“I didn’t even think that was possible.” Erica says with a small quirk of her lips. Scott nudges her with his foot.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.” Erica kicks him back.

Derek rolls his eyes. Just like that, it seems, Scott and Erica are back. And twice as annoying as before. Isaac, however, looks really happy about it. He’s always been lacking a real family in his life, and now they’re all coming back together. Some of them, at least. And that’s all Derek can offer at the moment.

The door slides open from behind them and Derek turns around to see Boyd entering with Peter behind him. Peter makes his way to Derek immediately, whereas Boyd just looks like he’s confused.

“I spoke to Stiles.” Peter informs them, and Scott is already on his feet.

“You _what?_ ” He barks.

“Are you deaf, traitor?” Peter snaps back. Scott snarls at him but Peter doesn’t seem fazed by it because he returns his attention to his nephew. “His scent is brand new. Nothing like it was before.”

“What does that mean?” Derek asks, but he knows he isn’t going to like the answer. Peter looks at him for a long moment before putting a reassuring hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“My best guess is that the bond has been broken.” He says, and Derek fights the urge to shift at the news. “He seems to have calmed down a lot. Like he’s finally in control of himself.” Peter pauses, then adds. “Well, in control of everything except his mouth.”

“Aw, did Peter get his feelings hurt?” Erica mocks him, running her fingers down her face to mimic tears. Scott looks like he’s trying not to smirk. Derek, however, doesn’t find any of this funny. He starts feeling uneasiness creep up on him, travelling down to his torso and nesting there. No, Peter has to be wrong. The bond can’t break. Derek can’t let it.

Can he? If Stiles is happier, can he let him go forever? Derek isn’t naïve. He had hoped Stiles might come back to him if he regains his memories, but after the weeks turn into months, he slowly comes to the realization that the memories aren’t coming back. Derek now needs to learn how to… let his mate go.

“Are you sure that’s what it means?” Scott asks, but he’s tense as if he’s acutely aware of how the Alpha is feeling. Derek looks around at the other beta’s to see them all tensing too. “I mean, who made you the mating expert?”

“I’m not an expert. I’ve just been around a lot longer than any of you.”

“So you could be wrong?”

“I could be. Hence why I said _guess._ ” Peter scowls over at Scott and removes his hand from Derek’s shoulder. He’d be lying if he doesn’t miss the contact. The contact of someone, anyone, who actually wants to touch him. It won’t be the touch he wants or his body craves for, but it’ll be something.

Peter pushes past the rest of them and climbs the staircase into the attic without another word. Erica sits back down on the sofa and so does Scott, with Boyd hovering nearby. Isaac is quiet – he’s always quiet – but now he seems to be quiet with purpose. Derek can’t take it anymore. He spins around and his fist collides with the wall with a pained grunt. He watches the concrete crumble under his fist and fall to the floor around his feet. He’s panting heavily and his chest is heaving. His head is bowed to his chest and he just stays like that.

“I’ll get the dustpan.” Scott says from somewhere to his left, his footsteps retreating to the kitchen. Isaac is by Derek’s side now, touching his forearm and trying to get him to move away from the wall.

“We don’t know it for sure.” The beta tells Derek, getting him to release his fist from the wall. He holds Derek’s arm mid-air. “Peter could be wrong. It’s been known to happen.”

“I can still hear you!” Comes Peter’s disgruntled response from wherever he’s perched above them in the attic. Boyd throws a cushion up at the ceiling.

“Isaac is right.” Boyd says after a moment when it seems like Peter has quietened himself. “Peter can’t judge what’s going on with Stiles based on his scent, especially since he hasn’t seen him in such a long time. Everyone’s scent changes over time. The only person who’ll be able to judge it is you, Derek.”

“I can’t.” Derek says lowly, watching Isaac who’s still got a hold on his forearm. “And I don’t have to. I heard what Stiles said. He doesn’t want this and he doesn’t want me. We’re all just going to have to deal with it.”

“This is what you call ‘dealing with it’?” Isaac replies and stares Derek down. The Alpha has a hard time handling the fact that Isaac is getting more and more confident when it comes to dealing with him.

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Go to see him.” Erica says, and raises her hands at Derek’s incoming scowl. “I’m not saying he has to _see_ you. Just… hang around. Get a feel for him. If Peter is right, then you’ll know. And _then,_ and only then, you can move on.”

“And if he sees you, it’s not the end of the world.” Isaac adds. “I mean, he forgave Scott for what happened at the party, right?”

“He hasn’t forgiven Scott for lying to him about everything else.” Derek argues, ripping his arm away from Isaac. At that moment, Scott emerges from the kitchen with his phone in his hand. His heartbeat flutters, and he looks over at Derek.

“I’m not sure anymore. He just texted me.”

“What?” Erica yells like she can’t believe her own ears. She shuffles over to Scott and swipes the phone from his hands.

“What did he say?” Derek asks impatiently.

“He told me to tell Peter to stay away from him or he’ll call animal control.”

Somewhere above, Peter barks out a laugh.

“It’s something.” Isaac remarks. Scott nods and makes for the door, and says, “I’m gonna find out.”

Derek watches him go, thinking there might just be hope yet.


	8. Décision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
>  **Chapter Title Translation:** Décision - Decision
> 
>  **Warnings:** Some explicit scenes.

**_THEN_ **

****

Derek hadn’t given much thought into how he’d die. It’s not exactly something anyone wanted to think about, but given his past history and the fact he was a werewolf, some things had to be addressed. He’d considered wolfsbane, since it’d almost happened before. Or something worse. He definitely didn’t think a teenager would be the death of him in the grand scheme of things. Not until a long time after – years, and a hell of a lot of cuts and bruises later – he started to think there might be something to this mating thing.

There was definitely an upside to being completely enamoured with someone based on a primal instinct. Definitely a lot of upsides, Derek thought, as he put his palm on Stiles’ chest and pressed him against the wall. Stiles was looking at him, eyes wide in alarm, and Derek could feel his eyes own glowing blue. The bond had been a surprise to them both, but a few weeks had passed and there was still something so raw about being alone with each other. With no one watching them, no one to worry about. It was a rare occurrence and Derek had every intention of making the most of those moments.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted my help.” Stiles said through gritted teeth like he was bracing for an impact that never came. “You wanted my research.”

“I do.” Derek assured him, leaning down and pressing his nose to Stiles’ freckled neck. “But I want something else.”

Derek could feel the motion of Stiles’ throat as he gulped. “Yeah?”

The Alpha slid his hand up and into Stiles’ growing hair and tugged his head to the side. He pressed his lips against the mark, _his_ mark, and licked at the skin there. Stiles made a few strangled noises in response but Derek held him in place and tightened his hold on his hair. He could feel Stiles’ delicate hands ascend his back and settle at his shoulder blades.

Derek proceeded to lick a line, long and slow and dirty, up the side of Stiles’ neck to his jaw line. Stiles’ scent was driving him crazy. He breathed him in and wanted to consume him, releasing his hand from Stiles’ hair and sliding it down his side where it rested on his hip. Apparently, Stiles had had enough because then he grabbed a fistful of Derek’s hair, pulled his face up and kissed him. Derek was more than happy to oblige, and if Stiles wanted control, he would gladly give it to him.

It got out of hand pretty quickly, as far as things go. Derek had Stiles pressed against the mattress in no time, kissing him until he was panting and his mouth was swollen and red. Derek revelled in the sight, the fact that he’d managed to make his mate look like that sent a tingle of electricity through his entire body. It fizzled in his abdomen until all Derek could think about was Stiles’ body under his hands.

“I need—” Stiles gasped from under him, hands fisting into the fabric at the front of Derek’s t-shirt.

Derek leaned down and breathed him in, mouth close to his ear. “What do you need?”

“This. Off.” Stiles breathed, tugging at Derek’s clothes. “Now.”

Derek had no choice but to do as Stiles asked. Shirt tossed onto the floor, he slid his hands under Stiles’ own and slid it up his stomach deliberately slowly. He shifted and leaned down to lick and kiss and nip at every inch of exposed skin he could reach before Stiles sat up and pulled his own shirt off over his head with an impatient expression. Derek growled deep inside his chest at the sight and shifted them with ease, switching their positions and pulling Stiles on top of him. And Stiles – a usual mess of fumbling hands and awkwardness – seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Like he was under a spell, or at least that’s how Stiles would put it. Derek figured, if it was a spell, it was a damn good one because Stiles pulled at his shoulders until they were both sitting upright and Stiles was straddling him. Derek’s teeth must have grown because Stiles was staring at them, and if his scent was anything to go by, he _really_ liked it. For some reason, he’d noticed that Stiles liked it when Derek lost control. Derek, not so much, but he couldn’t help it. His body acted on instinct and it took his mind longer to catch up sometimes, just like now.

“I love you.” Stiles blurted out and tightened his grip around Derek’s back. Derek froze and stiffened considerably. Stiles was staring at him, so pure and innocent and in love. Derek felt a breath escape his lungs that he didn’t even know he was holding. It was the first time Stiles had said something like that, and Derek didn’t know how to express the complete blind and reckless adoration he felt when he looked at him. Stiles clearly didn’t expect a response, though, taking Derek’s face into his hands and kissing him slowly. Derek felt himself being lowered back onto the mattress and he let it happen, tilting his head when it hit the pillow and pushing up against the kiss.

Derek didn’t know how he was going to die, but he figured, he didn’t care anymore. Because he’d gotten to experience what it was like to be with someone who truly loved him.

**_NOW_ **

****

Stiles is just lying in the middle of his bedroom floor contemplating his life decisions and minding his own business when there’s a light tap at his bedroom window. And, seriously, werewolves? No sense of alone time. At all. He starts thinking he should invest in window bars to prevent this happening in the future. He doesn’t even move to get up, resigning himself to the fact that whoever it is, they’re going to come in anyway so what’s the point in protesting?

His window slides open and the imposter steps inside. Stiles doesn’t even need to lift his head to know that it’s Scott. He’d sent him a text after all, so he shouldn’t even be surprised that his currently ex-best friend has decided that one text means everything is cool. Which it really isn’t. But Stiles has had a rough enough day as it is without adding some guilt to the pot.

“Stiles? Are you okay?” His best friend looks down at him with worried eyes. If Stiles had the energy, he’d try to slap Scott.

“Everything’s just dandy.” He says from where he lays, like a big puddle of questionable life choices, staring up at the ceiling in hopes that it’ll give him some answers. Predictably, the ceiling has nothing to say. “You got my text, I guess?”

“Yeah.” Scott actually sits down next to him, leaning his back against Stiles’ bed and stretching his legs out flat. Their knees brush together on the floor. “I didn’t know Peter would turn up. None of us did. What did he say?”

“He asked me how therapy was going.”

“You’re in therapy?”

“ _Thank_ you!” Stiles exclaims, slapping Scott’s knee. “My life isn’t exactly a public broadcast! How the hell would Peter know something like that?”

“Sounds to me like he must have followed you.” Scott guesses. “Because none of the others know about it.”

“The others?” Stiles asks, leaning himself up on his elbows and looking over at his friend. There’s something different about him, like there’s a new light inside him. “You saw the pack?”

“Yeah, Stiles.” Scott tells him, smiling a little from where he sits. And there it is again, that ray of sunshine poking its way through Scott’s teeth. “I’m actually—I’m back with them, now. I’m part of the pack again.”

“Really?” There’s surprise in Stiles’ voice and he looks over with wide eyes. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Erica’s cool with it?”

“She wasn’t at first. She tried to kill me.” Scott admits, and Stiles chokes on a laugh. “But, it’s good now. I feel like I got my family back.”

“And Derek?” Stiles asks, not missing the way Scott hesitates. His friend looks over at him, his smile fading.

“I talked to him after the party where we—you know, fought. We worked it out, and there’s still a lot of things we need to work through but, yeah.”

“How is—he—” Stiles struggles, laying himself back down on the floor and looking back up at the ceiling. How is Derek coping? Is he thinking about Stiles as much as Stiles is thinking about him? Is he lying on his own bedroom floor as a coping mechanism? All valid questions that he wants to ask, but somehow, all that comes out of his mouth is, “How is Derek?”

“Why?” Scott asks, like actually has the audacity to ask. Stiles shoots him a glare from where he lays but it probably looks less intimidating than he intends given their positions. Scott takes the hint well enough though. “He’s… adjusting.”

“Well?”

“Not exactly.” Scott says, then sniffs the air and Stiles doesn’t even want to ask. “He wants you to be happy, Stiles. We all do. I do.”

“ _I_ want me to be happy, Scott.” Stiles snaps back. “But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change what you did.”

“You’re right.” Scott says. Stiles is actually so surprised by the response that he sits up and brings his knees to his chest. He looks at his soon-to-be-reinstated best friend intently. “It doesn’t. Nothing will. I shouldn’t have hid the truth from you. I never should have done that to you, and I’m sorry for it. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Stiles.” Scott pauses then, shakily heaving in a breath. “But I love Allison. I would do anything for her. I wasn’t the happiest guy on earth when I found out what she did, but I forgave her. Because I love her.”

Stiles is beginning to understand what Scott is trying to say. “You’re telling me I should forgive you because I love you?”

“Yes.” Scott tells him, then reaches over and places his hand over one of Stiles’ knees. “You’re my brother, Stiles.”

Stiles looks at his best friend and, damnit. With that stupid kicked puppy face staring back at him, Stiles has no choice but to nod and say, “Brothers.” Scott beams instantly. But it doesn’t last very long before he’s frowning again and Stiles frowns back. “What?”

Scott shakes his head and looks away. “It’s just. You and Derek.”

Haven’t they already rang that bell? Hello? Nobody was home the first time. “What about it?”

“It’s messed up. It’s really—”

“Since when did you become Team Derek?” Stiles asks. “Is this some kind of pack thing? Is he mind controlling you?”

“This isn’t a joke, man.” Scott snaps back, and Stiles goes silent and rests his head against his knees and subsequently also Scott’s hand. “What’s going on with you and Lydia?”

“There is no ‘me and Lydia’.”

“But, at the party, you two were holding hands. You were protecting her—”

“Yeah, from _you._ And Derek. And it wasn’t even me!” Stiles barks back, like the idea appals him now. And to his own surprise, it actually kind of does. Huh. That’s new. “She just grabbed onto me because she was scared, Scott. That’s the end of it.”

“So you haven’t—”

“ _No._ ” Stiles shakes his head firmly. “It’s not a thing. It will never _be_ a thing. And it feels, like, so _wrong_ now. When she looks at me I don’t feel anything. I didn’t even notice the flirting until you said it. And even then, nothing. And it’s not like I don’t know how ridiculously out of my league she is because – come on. You’ve seen her, right?” Stiles pauses to take a breath, aware of his own rambling. “And I’m not saying I didn’t _consider_ it because, hello, who wouldn’t? But then this weird feeling started in my chest and I couldn’t shake it off. Like the air was thinner. Like something was telling me it was wrong. And after that, well, the idea just felt wrong in all definitions of the word.”

Scott doesn’t say anything for a while and Stiles itches at the silence. Scott sniffs at the air again and Stiles’ curiosity gets the better of him. “What are you sniffing at?”

“I’m not.” Scott says instantly, and Stiles gives him his best _really?_ face. “Okay. You.”

“ _Why_ are you sniffing me?” Stiles gapes. Scott shrugs like it’s a completely normal thing to do. “Really? You’re really not gonna tell me? Do I stink?”

“No, you smell like you always do.”

“What is that, exactly?”

Scott struggles visibly. “I don’t know. You smell like… Stiles. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Fascinating.” Stiles says flatly.

“I’d share my badass werewolf mojo with you but I don’t think it’d work out between us.” Scott jokes, but Stiles feels a sharp pang inside his chest. No, it wouldn’t work. Derek had told him that.

“It only works with a mate.” Stiles says sadly. Scott’s laugh fades away and he offers a sad smile Stiles’ way. He appreciates it, sure, but it doesn’t help anything. “I can listen to Derek’s heart if I focus really hard. And I can identify his scent pretty much anywhere. If he’s happy or sad. And… and it helps if he’s touching me when I try. I don’t know the logistics of it all.”

Scott is silent for a long moment before he says, “Do you miss him?”

Stiles really doesn’t know how to respond to that without screaming out a definitive _yes! Yes I miss him and his stupid big werewolf eyebrows and his ability to be stoic about everything!._ Instead, he goes with a simple and inconclusive, “Maybe.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes, okay?” Stiles snaps back. “Like you even had to ask with your magic lie detecting abilities. You just wanted to hear me say it.”

“No.” Scott says firmly. There’s such a change in his voice that Stiles actually looks up at him and their eyes meet. “I wanted you to hear yourself say it.”

Well, shit. “You’re an asshole sometimes.”

Scott grins. “And you’re annoyingly stubborn.”

“And Derek’s emotionally constipated.” Stiles adds with a dark laugh.

“He isn’t. Trust me.” Scott tells him honestly. “He might seem like that on the outside, but he isn’t. And he definitely isn’t when it comes to you.”

Stiles sighs and makes a move to stand. He ends up stumbling but Scott is already there with a helpful hand on his elbow to steady him. Dusk is settling outside and there’s a soft, orange hue coming in through the bedroom window. Stiles looks at it longingly, wishing he could remember who he is. But he doesn’t. Life just stays complicated.

“We went on a date.” Stiles says, not tearing his gaze away from the window. Scott raises an eyebrow. “Derek and me. He asked—yes married people can go on dates, apparently, don’t even ask—and we. Ended up. Here. There was kissing.”

“Really?” Scott smacks him on the shoulder. “That’s great, right?”

“I guess. It kinda scared the hell out of me.”

“Look, I know it’s probably seriously overwhelming, but it’s real. I know you can feel it. I can smell it on you.”

“ _Dude!_ ” Stiles puts his hands in the air. “Keep your nose to yourself.”

“It’s called breathing!”

“Well, don’t!”

Scott rolls his eyes. Apparently he isn’t finished. “Stiles. It’s good. It’s good you can remember how to use your senses around Derek. You should talk to him.”

“I don’t even know what I would say.” Stiles admits, and Scott shakes his head and gives him this _look_ like he’s about to go to town on some amazing, complicated and brilliant plan. Stiles doesn’t hold his breath. But at least he has his best friend back, so there’s that. Even if there is still some ice between them.

01:23. **Scott:** _His scent has changed but it’s stronger now and it’s a good thing_

01:35. **Derek:** _A good thing how?_

01:36. **Scott:** _Like he doesn’t just smell like Stiles. He’s carrying your scent again too_

Derek frowns down at his phone in confusion. How is that possible? Derek hasn’t been close to Stiles in over a month.

01:38. **Scott:** _He also says you’re emotionally constipated lol_

Derek stares blankly at the wall for a long moment. Peter starts laughing at him.

01:39. **Derek:** _Tell him thanks for that._

01:40. **Scott:** _Tell him yourself_

01:49. **Derek:** _You talked about me? With Stiles?_

01:50. **Scott:** _Stiles asked about you a lot he’s confused, I think he just needs some more time, I’m staying over at his I’ll be over in the morning_

Derek doesn’t even reply. What can he even say to that? Sighing, he flicks through his phone to look at the messages he’s sent Stiles in the past. Which, admittedly, isn’t a lot considering they were always together in the first place. Some of them are stupid, short little sentences or random words from when Stiles wanted something from the kitchen but didn’t want to move and didn’t want to use his voice to ask. Or if Stiles went to see his dad, he would tell Derek random things about what was going on during the day. He misses it a lot.

Peter is looking at him but ends up shaking his head and letting his nephew torture himself, returning his attention to the book in his hands. Derek looks down at his phone and starts reading some of the texts, reading some of his favourites from different times.

13:23. **Stiles:** _i’m on my way back so you better tell me if isaac ate all the hot pockets now so i can stop by the store before i get back. you might be my mate but blood will still be spilled_

23:00. **Stiles:** _ugh when is jackson going to leave so we can go to bed so i can climb u like a tree_

19:26. **Stiles:** _staying at dad’s tonight. don’t chew the sofa or anything. love u_

20:32. **Stiles:** _when you’re done working out with that hot bod of urs can u bring me a bag of chips from the kitchen. too lazy to move_

00:00. **Stiles:** _can you come to bed because my feet are cold_

Stiles doesn’t know why he decides today is the day he’s going to absolutely gut his bedroom. Maybe it’s the rain outside, pattering against his window and drowning out everything else, that makes him feel like he needs to do something to distract himself. His dad had left early in the morning because he was on-call. On a freaking Saturday. Stiles is seriously re-considering this whole FBI Academy thing. Because it’s a Saturday. It’s a day of rest. Of coffee and contemplation. Nothing else.

Except, on this Saturday, it’s the day Stiles clears out his room. It’s a long time coming, really, since half of the stuff up on the walls he doesn’t even remember putting there. He takes down a few posters of bands he doesn’t recognise the name of and shoves them into a bag and leans it up against his door. He shoves all of the clothes strewn across his floor into the laundry basket and loads them into the washing machine. He stares down a his ripped college applications for a while before decidedly putting them back onto his desk, determined that he’ll print out new ones eventually. He has to move on with his life, after all.

When he’s pulling away, he bumps into his desk chair and sends it tumbling onto the floor with a loud bang. He scrambles to fix it and return his book bag back to its designated spot before realizing it’s open and something’s poking out of it. It’s a large brown envelope. Stiles paws at it and sits back down at his desk to empty the contents. The photographs Scott gave him. It feels like years ago now, and it may as well be. So much had happened in the past two months and Stiles doesn’t feel any better for it.

He flicks through the ones he’s already looked at and zones in on the ones he hasn’t. There’s a picture of Stiles and Allison beaming at the camera, and he has his arm wrapped around her. Stiles smiles down at the picture fondly. He’d half-mended things with Allison not too long after Scott had forced his way back into his life. It isn’t like it was, though. And it probably won’t be for a long time, but progress is progress and Stiles doesn’t want to dwell on it. Allison had been more than surprised when Stiles had text her. She’d showed up at his house looking like a startled deer, shaking, with her small eyes open so wide Stiles thought it looked painful. And he’d just held his hand out to her and she shook it fondly. And again, progress is progress.

The next few photographs are a series of Derek and Isaac trying to tie each other’s ties. It doesn’t look like it’s going well. Why the hell are they wearing ties, anyway? Stiles thinks back to him and Derek’s date, where the Alpha had worn a tie. He closes his eyes and sighs heavily.

The next photo is of Stiles and Derek. They both look a lot younger and the quality isn’t as good as the others. He figures it was snapped on someone’s phone. Derek’s beard is weirdly missing and Stiles’ hair is buzzed down to his scalp. Oh, and they’re pretty much glued to each other. Derek’s big arms are wrapped around Stiles’ waist – he’s also _shirtless,_ damn – and Stiles is standing up on his tip toes and pressing his nose to the Alpha’s jaw. Derek is smiling softly, looking down at the ground. It looks like it’s been taken in the middle of the woods, and clearly it’s a long time ago considering Stiles is wearing his old lacrosse tracksuit. Must have been right after practice.

He can’t describe the sensation in his chest upon looking at it. It’s similar to pain but like it hasn’t developed yet. Like it’s incoming. Stiles clears his throat and curses himself. If only things could be that simple now.

He puts that photo to the side, away from the others, and looks at the next one. Derek and Scott, except Derek doesn’t look pleased in the slightest. Scott is making a kissy face at him and Derek is just staring at him like he wishes he would drop dead. Stiles actually laughs out loud at that one. There’s a couple of others in the same poor quality, and seriously, someone needs to upgrade their cell phone because _wow._

The final two make Stiles’ heart ache because Derek is grinning in both of them. In the first, it’s at Erica, who’s got Boyd in a headlock. Stiles spots himself standing off to the side with an alarmed look on his face, still dressed in that stupid red tracksuit. In the second picture, seemingly taken inside someone’s car, Derek is sitting in the back seat and Stiles’ head is in his lap. Derek is laughing and his head is thrown back against the headrest. Stiles’ mouth is open and he’s smiling too, obviously saying something that’s making the Alpha laugh. It isn’t until Stiles holds the photo closer to his face that he sees Derek’s hand on his ribcage, and his own hand wrapped around Derek’s wrist. Is he… was Derek tickling him? Is that what’s happening?

Oooooh, crap. Stiles puts the photo down and tries to relax. That feeling is back in his chest and it’s stronger now. Like it’s trying to coax him away from his desk. He fights it though, of course, despite his will beginning to snap. The rain comes on harder then, hammering against the window even louder.

Out of his own curiosity, and simply because he wants to torture himself further, Stiles digs back into his bag and takes out his camera. The camera Derek bought for him. Stiles doesn’t even know what to do with it. He’d thought he’d broken it before, but he hasn’t. It turns on with a small beep and Stiles settles into his chair and starts flicking through it to see what’s left on the memory card.

There’s a lot of abstract photos, some landscapes and some buildings. Stiles actually recognises some of them, which is something, considering he doesn’t actually remember ever using the camera in the first place. It doesn’t mean anything, though, because he isn’t about to start ranting and raving that he suddenly remembers something as mundane as this.

Eventually and somewhat inevitably, Stiles gets to his own private pictures. The ones he doesn’t remember taking. There’s a selfie of him and Allison standing proudly in matching white t-shirts that say “Vegetarian 4 Life” in bright red letters. Stiles shakes his head. He’d actually listened to what Allison had told him and now, whenever his dad serves up something like a pot roast or a rare steak, Stiles feels like gagging. Until eventually his dad stops trying and just starts buying the non-meat equivalents to his own meals. And seriously, best dad ever.

Of course, _of course_ , there’s a _lot_ of photos of Derek. Mostly skewed and out of focus, but Stiles can make some of them out. There’s a lot of him sleeping. Stiles pauses over one in particular and stares down at the camera like he can’t believe his eyes. Derek looks… actually kind of adorable. His eyes are closed and his brow is relaxed, his lips slightly parted. He’s wrapped in familiar crimson sheets up to his waist, lying on his stomach with his arms stretched above his head and hidden under his pillow. And Stiles _swears_ he can actually hear Derek breathing. Stunned, he looks around his room to confirm he is, in fact, alone. Has been for a while.

There’s a few pictures of Stiles and Derek together, doing god only knows what, some of them are out of focus and some are just so crazy that Stiles isn’t even sure what to make of them. But in every single one, Derek is smiling. He’s smiling like he’s _happy_. He’s smiling like he’s content in his life. There’s such a sharp pain in Stiles’ chest that he actually drops the camera onto his lap and clutches his heart.

And that, really, is the final straw.

Stiles has had enough. He pushes himself up from his chair and puts the camera on his desk, before darting out of his room and down the stairs, taking them two at a time and miraculously landing in the hallway without any broken bones. Then he makes a mad dash for his car, not even bothering that it’s pouring rain outside. He climbs inside and shakes the water from his hair like a dog, turning on the ignition and reversing the hell out of there.

He knows where he has to go.

****

This is really a do or die situation. And Stiles figures if he chooses _do_ and he ends up dying, it’ll have been worth the effort. He can feel himself getting choked up, like his body doesn’t know what to do with the warmth bubbling in his chest. But his hands and feet seem to know where they’re going, because after what feels like an eternity, his jeep is screeching to a halt outside of Derek’s loft. Stiles cuts the engine and sits and listens to the rain battering against the car. His hands are tense around the steering wheel and his legs are shaking.

He leans forward and looks up at the loft with a hopeful expression. The lights are on. Derek is home. The thought should comfort him considering the Alpha is the only reason he’s here, but it makes him really nervous. What if Derek doesn’t want to see him?

Shaking those thoughts out of his head – like, literally shaking his head until he feels like his eyes might roll around inside his skull – he stumbles out of the car and slams the door closed. Derek must have heard him by now, and Stiles is only a little disappointed when the Alpha doesn’t appear at the bottom of the stairwell once he jogs towards the building. But it doesn’t matter because at least now he has time to figure out what he’s going to say to explain what the _hell_ he’s doing here, but he’s not even fully sure he knows what he wants to happen. Clutching at the handrails, Stiles ascends the stairs and tries to ignore the uncomfortable squelching noise coming from his shoes. He’s literally dripping wet.

He skids to a halt in front of the loft door and starts to feel his resolve crumble. It feels like so long ago since he’d walked out of here with his dad waiting outside and hadn’t looked back. Now he’s staring back at the door and wondering how the hell he ever left in the first place. He’d been so stupid. So stupid he couldn’t see what was standing in front of him this entire time.

He considers knocking. He really does. For a solid two minutes. Eventually, he decides against it and settles for just throwing the door open with a loud grunt. That thing is heavy, holy hell. He feels the muscles in his arms scream in protest.

But whatever they were trying to say turns into stunned silence when he sees Derek standing a few feet away from the door with a shocked look on his face. He looks just like Stiles remembers, wearing a faded white v-neck and a pair of old jeans. All hard edges and broad shoulders and _god,_ that face. He’s still wearing the wedding ring around his neck too.

He can see Derek now. He can really see him. He can see the pain hidden in his eyes. Hell, he can smell it. He can see the worry lines creasing his forehead, the bags under his eyes. He can see how big his arms are from where they’re resting at his sides, the way his fingers flex and unflex upon witnessing Stiles’ not-so-dramatic entrance.

A moment of impact.

That’s all it takes, really. One moment. One look. One beat of his heart. And Stiles’ body does the work for him.

He surges forward, takes Derek’s face into his hands and kisses him.

Derek seems to be frozen in time. He doesn’t respond at first, he doesn’t really do anything except stand there like someone’s knocked the wind out of him. Thunder rumbles from outside and echoes inside the loft, and for whatever reason, it seems to snap Derek out of his stunned state because then he’s responsive. And he’s _kissing Stiles back._ He’s wrapping his arms around Stiles’ soaking wet body like he’s holding on for his life. He’s kissing Stiles like he’s hungry for it, fisting his hands into the fabric of his shirt.

Stiles feels like his brain is going into overdrive. It’s like his mind finally catches up with his heart. Like there’s a spell cast over him and he welcomes it, breathes it in and lets it take over him. Coherent thought? Never heard of it. Because Derek’s tongue is in his mouth and there’s nothing else to think about, really. Nothing at all. Nothing except getting Derek’s hands all over him, touching his skin and burning him from the outside in.

He pushes the Alpha backwards, not breaking their kiss, and presses him against the adjacent wall. There’s a suspicious hole in it, like someone’s punched their frustration out against it, but he doesn’t care because Derek’s hands are sliding under his shirt and life is _good_. Finally. He pulls back to look at the Alpha, who’s allowing himself to be pressed up against the wall. Derek’s mouth is red and so are his cheeks and his eyes are closed like he’s concentrating. He breathes hot air against Stiles’ mouth. With a low moan, Stiles kisses him again like he can’t get enough. Like he can’t believe he’s allowed to _have_ this _._ Like he can’t believe Derek is _his._ He can’t even understand why he’d fought it in the first place, even if it’s just the pheromones talking.

Derek’s palms are splayed against his sides, thumbs pressing just under his rib cage under his shirt. Stiles moves his hands to do the same, sliding them under the Alpha’s shirt but he ends up getting distracted by the muscles there. His chest swells with heat and he grips at the fabric of Derek’s shirt, yanking it upwards until he gets with the program. There’s a low rumble from inside the Alpha’s chest, something similar to growling but a lot less intimidating and on a whole other level of _hot._

Derek tenses and pushes Stiles back, but instead of pushing him away, he swaps their positions and shoves Stiles against the wall. Then Derek’s hands are all over him and Stiles feels like he can’t breathe anymore. He has the air knocked out of his lungs when his back collides with the concrete, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything except getting Derek’s shirt _off._ Derek is less than helpful, more interested in kissing the life out of him. He actually manages to get Stiles’ own wet and dripping shirt off first before his own. But Stiles gets what he wants in the end because then Derek’s naked from the waist up and he can’t help the noise that escapes his throat when he sees him.

Derek’s eyes are glowing and he’s panting, and Stiles sees the beginning of fangs coming from his mouth. It doesn’t scare him. He actually, really, _really_ thinks, oh god, that it’s totally a thing. A turn on. Extremely. He grabs Derek by the shoulders and pulls him back in for another hot and wet kiss, revelling in the choked noise that comes from the Alpha’s throat. They’ve never went any further than this – at least, not that he can remember – but Stiles is _so_ ready to have everything.

Derek breaks their kiss to start sniffing at Stiles’ neck, like, actually sniffing like a dog. He does it religiously, like he can’t control himself, like he’s trying to soak up his mate’s scent and breathe it into his lungs. Stiles whimpers a bit, angling his neck away from Derek to give him easier access. And he has to admit, Derek’s scent is maddening too. It’s blinding. And it’s so _strong_ right now that Stiles starts feeling weak at the knees.

Derek’s hands are holding Stiles’ hips in place so tight he’s sure they’ll bruise. The Alpha kisses a line along Stiles’ neck. Even though he knows it’s coming, Stiles gasps and lets his head fall back against the concrete when Derek sinks his teeth into the mark there like he’s renewing it, then licks at the wound until it _burns._ Stiles is squirming in his grasp, struggling against Derek’s hold on his hips.

He doesn’t know which one of them makes the decision to move, but he figures it’s Derek. The Alpha’s hands slide down to the back of Stiles’ thighs – pausing to palm at his ass, _jesus_ – and hoist him up. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s waist and lets himself be carried to the closest thing in the room. He lands on the sofa with a grunt, looking up at Derek who looks so close to wolfing out it drives Stiles crazy. He’s panting, chest heaving, and his fangs are longer than Stiles has ever seen them. He can’t help the way his back arches at the sight, like his body is submitting, and honestly? Totally cool with that.

For whatever reason, the movement seems to really affect Derek in some primal way if his expression is anything to go by. He presses Stiles down onto the sofa by his hips and starts mouthing along his chest, stopping to bite and lick wherever he feels necessary. Stiles is writhing underneath him like a teenager, fingers tugging roughly at his hair. Derek growls then, loud but from somewhere deep inside his chest and releases his hold on Stiles’ hips. His hands move to Stiles’ soaked jeans and unbuttons them and all Stiles can do is lean up and capture his lips again.

He kisses Derek rougher than he first intends to, but Derek responds with enthusiasm and actually _growls_ into Stiles’ mouth and, yeah, totally cool with that too. That’s also a _thing_ , apparently.

Things get more heated after that, if it’s even possible, and Stiles thinks he’s about to sink into the sofa by how hard Derek presses him down against it. And he figures, that’s just fine with him. At some point, his hands descend down Derek’s chest and stop at the waistband of his jeans and _tug._ Yeah, he really needs them _off_ right now. Derek doesn’t move to help him, or even react to him at all, except for tearing his lips away and moving downwards. Then he actually _rips_ Stiles’ jeans off. Like, clean off, and dumps them in a messy heap of torn fabric onto the floor. And Stiles figures, hey, he’ll just buy a new pair because holy _shit_ Derek’s an Alpha and he can actually do things like that.

Derek noses along Stiles’ inner thigh, licking him and, embarrassingly, sniffing him. Stiles can feel the embarrassment gather in his cheeks and neck, making him go a weird shade of pink. Because, hey, Derek’s face is _right there_ and he’s so painfully hard he actually twitches his hips when the Alpha decides to bite him. He arches his back and – totally accidentally – his hips collide with Derek’s face. And Derek responds by pressing a wet and sloppy kiss _right there_ on his groin over his underwear and oh my _god._ He does it again, teasing him, and Stiles’ eyes roll back inside his head.

That rumbling in Derek’s chest? A total low and near constant growling now. And Stiles? Losing his mind because of it.

There’s a flash of lightning through the window and Stiles sees it behind closed eyes. Like the planet is tearing itself apart. It happens again, and Stiles furrows his brow before he realises it isn’t actually lightning this time, it’s something inside his head. Blurred scenes flash across his eyelids like he’s in some sort of twisted and demented dream where he can’t hear or see or _feel_ anything. Derek is breathing harsh against him, and every time he bites at Stiles’ thighs it happens again. Distorted images scroll through his head and he loses himself to them.

Until suddenly everything is clear, like he’s watching his own life in reverse. He sees Derek’s car wrapped around a truck in the middle of a highway, and he sees Derek pull his lifeless body out of the driver’s side and start running through traffic into the night. Stiles gasps and opens his eyes. He grabs at the Alpha’s bare shoulders and _yanks_ him up and kisses him like it’s all he can do. Derek kisses him back and Stiles feels him shift his weight to one side, hooking a leg under Stiles’ knee and flipping their positions. He senses a pattern here, since Derek had done the same thing before when they’d been in Stiles’ bed. He isn’t about to let Derek back out, not when his body decides that _now_ is the perfect time to remember things, of all times.

It isn’t until Derek’s hands are on his ass and he’s grinding up against him that Stiles realises, maybe the Alpha has no intention of stopping this time. Winning.

There’s another flash behind his eyes as he groans and his head falls against Derek’s shoulder. This time he feels like he’s panicked, desperately putting his hands all over Derek’s chest in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Derek looks rough in this one, covered in holes and scrapes and bruises and, god, what the hell is that black veiny thing spreading across his stomach? His mind catches up, and he knows, he _knows,_ that this is the night Derek gets attacked by Allison. And Stiles is there, and his hands know what to do. And Derek is grabbing at him and inhaling at the skin of his neck.

He comes back to himself with a start. Derek has halted his movements and is now panting below Stiles, hands loosening their grip on his ass. And, hell no.

“Don’t stop.” It comes out a lot more strangled than he intends it to. His voice sounds shaky and his throat feels raw. Derek is still hesitating beneath him, and Stiles can feel his unease. He understands it, and it makes him feel breathless.

“I don’t—” Derek tries but it comes out more like a growl, which effectively ends their conversation because Stiles is suddenly all over him, pressing their lips back together and pushing his tongue into the Alpha’s mouth, swallowing whatever reservations he has. Every time Derek touches him, kisses him, breathes him in, Stiles sees something. Like Derek touching him was the answer to making his way back to himself all along. If he’d known sooner, it’d have saved a whole lot of stupidity on his part.

The Alpha is still hesitating against Stiles, and his hands have stopped their motion. Stiles whines repeatedly against his mouth until, _oh,_ it totally works. The growling inside Derek’s chest gets louder until it’s all Stiles can hear. He manages to shift and lean all of his weight on his knees without breaking the kiss, and his hands move back to Derek’s jeans and he starts trying to undress him. Derek actually helps him this time, pushing Stiles’ hands out of the way and taking over. He doesn’t even register how the Alpha gets his jeans off, like it’s some kind of magic trick, before their positions are flipped again and Derek is pressed back against him, chest to chest and heart to heart, pushing him down against the sofa.

There’s a fire building in Stiles’ abdomen, getting stronger and wilder by the second. He sees something else, something from a long time ago. Derek is younger and his hair is wilder and he doesn’t have a beard. But he’s still wearing the same leather jacket and it’s looser on his arms like he’s smaller somehow. Stiles’ hair is buzzed to the scalp and he’s dressed in some weird denim jacket. Derek has him pressed against his bedroom door and he looks angry, but Stiles looks like he’s about to kiss him. Then the mood changes, lifts and swirls around until all Stiles can see and feel is their bond, and he _knows_ this is where it all began.

Stiles hums against Derek’s lips, and somehow – he doesn’t know how or when it starts – he’s grinding his hips up against the Alpha’s. And it feels like a new level of _everything_ not only because their lack of clothing, but because Derek is meeting him halfway. He’s pushing his hips against Stiles’ and making these low, guttural noises into their kiss and holy _hell._

Stiles’ brain is about to explode.

And it’s not the _only_ imminent explosion either.

Derek seems to sense it before Stiles does, because his growls have turned more into whimpers and suddenly Stiles feels his underwear being tugged down. He grimaces a little, because, dude, has Derek seen himself? Has he seen Stiles? Totally no comparison. Derek disagrees, apparently, from the look on his face like Stiles is a prize he’s just won at the county fair. And, also, the idea of being naked with Derek is a lot different than the reality of it. It’s nothing like Stiles imagines, it’s _better._ It’s in another ball park. They’re playing a different sport now entirely.

Then Derek’s hand is around him and he thinks he actually sees stars. There’s a lot of fumbling – mostly on Stiles’ part – and a lot of deep breaths and gasps – also on Stiles’ part – but eventually they fall into this rhythm that feels like it was made for them. He feels something build inside him before he’s squirming under Derek’s chest and coming all over his hand. It affects the Alpha, clearly, and he doesn’t last long after that. Stiles actually finds the confidence to touch him and Derek bites him, rolling his hips and coming with a long and very low grunt.

Stiles doesn’t have much time to bask in the afterglow since he’d just had _sex._ With _Derek Hale._ Because Derek starts… snuffling him. Stiles can’t think of a better way to describe it. Derek presses his nose against Stiles’ neck and moves it all over his face and down to his shoulder, sniffing him intently as he goes. It makes Stiles feel self-conscious, but at this point, what else could he really be embarrassed about? He’s already naked and sweating and sticky and Derek is hovering above him, softly humming occasionally when he’s pleased about something. He doesn’t really know _how_ he knows when Derek is happy about something, he just does.

Derek starts nosing around just behind Stiles’ earlobe, inhaling deeply and making a soft noise like it heals him and he tightens the grip he has on Stiles’ hips. Is this what being a mate is like? Can Derek smell how he’s basically pumped full of sex hormones right now? Derek starts growling again and Stiles can feel himself awaken. And, _seriously?_ It’s not even been five minutes and he feels like he’s ready to go again. This mating stuff is going to take a lot of getting used to.

He lets out a startled gasp when Derek bites his ear, but it’s gentle and there’s a small tug. Stiles tries to clear his throat. “As much as doing that again sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had, I really need a shower.”

Derek hums against him in agreement.

Except the second Stiles steps into the bathroom, Derek’s hands are on him again like he can’t control it. His eyes are glowing bright and blue and his lips are parted, his teeth jutting out over his lower lip. And that’s how Stiles finds himself pinned against the wall in the shower, water hitting his legs and going in his eyes, and Derek pressed up against him.

And he figures, he’s totally okay with it.

**_THEN_ **

****

“Dude!” Scott smacked Stiles on the back so hard he actually stumbled forwards and tripped over his own feet. “You popped your cherry!”

If they hadn’t been currently walking through the woods, Stiles might have just ran away from his friend. But since he had no idea where they were going, he stayed pretty much plastered to Scott’s side. “ _Dude._ Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” Scott asked, still beaming with pride. Seriously, when did Scott start acting like some kind of den mother?

“Like you’re proud of me. I’m an _adult!_ ” And just to prove his statement, Stiles proceeded to trip over a broken branch and fall flat on his face. He groaned into the mud and turned himself over onto his back to look up at the sky in hopes maybe a UFO would appear and abduct him. There was some shuffling in front of them, before a very disgruntled looking Erica was glaring down at him.

“Could you two _be_ any louder?” She barked, grabbing Stiles by the collar and forcing him to his feet. He patted himself down and wiped some dirt and grime from his face with his sleeve.

“Sorry. Didn’t see that twig. It attacked me!”

“Be _quiet._ ” Derek hissed from far up ahead, like he’d heard the whole conversation and was now shooting them a stern look. Derek had organised some kind of practice hunt the night prior, which they were all now taking part in. Only the werewolves were invited, but Stiles let Scott drag him along anyway because he wasn’t about to miss his chance to see some good ol’ kung fu werewolf action.

“This is exactly why he didn’t want any humans here in the first place!” Erica hissed at Stiles, poking him in the chest before dragging him along to keep up with the others. After a while, once they were close enough to Derek and Jackson, Erica let go of his collar and side eyed him. “You had sex.”

Stiles wanted to die right there. “Seriously? You too?”

“The nose never lies.” Scott butted in, tapping his nose like some kind of stupid werewolf with a stupid face and _ugh._

“How was it?” Erica asked like it was any of her business. Jackson turned around and gave her a look that totally conveyed how much he absolutely _did not_ want to hear this conversation. But that only made it clear that Derek, who was walking stiffly beside Jackson, could hear them too. But he wasn’t reacting in any way, staring straight ahead at the trees before them.

“How is it when you and Boyd get it on?” Stiles hissed back, making a feeble attempt to keep his voice low and quiet.

“None of your business!”

“ _Exactly._ ”

Jackson growled back at them. Derek smacked him on the back of his head and told him to be _quiet._

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.” Erica prompted, settling beside Stiles and nudging Scott out of the way. His friend scoffed and moved around to Stiles’ other side as they walked. Stiles felt surrounded.

“Yeah, I told you about mine and Allison’s first time.” Scott said it as if it changed anything. “And you’re mates. Boyd and Erica aren’t mates, neither are me and Allison. We just want to know what it’s like.”

Well, damn, that just sounded so _sad._ Stiles looked ahead to Derek for help, but apparently the Alpha was ignoring him. Jackson was huffing in puffing beside him, intent on making sure he heard nothing. Derek had his head tilted slightly, like the real reason he wasn’t saying anything was because he wanted to hear what Stiles had to say. Huh. Two could play at that game.

“It was fine. Normal.” Stiles said, and enjoyed the way Derek’s shoulders tensed in response. Jackson barked out a laugh and shook his head, slapping the Alpha’s back like he was trying to console him.

“You’re surrounded by werewolves and you choose to lie.” Erica stated, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not a lie!”

“It is.” Scott confirmed.

“Okay, fine. It wasn’t normal. It was… like. I don’t know.” Stiles’ heart started beating faster, acutely aware that everyone was listening. “It was like being under a spell. Like a really horny, oh my god kind of spell.”

“Nice.” Scott said with wide eyes.

“I expect details tomorrow.” Erica informed him. Like she was sure Stiles would tell her whatever she wanted to know in the blink of an eye. Which _so_ wasn’t happening. “And it’s not like I can ask Derek about it. He’s got the emotional bandwidth of a potato.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Stiles protested.

“So defensive of your mate. Cute.”

“I hate you right now.”

“No, you don’t. You’re lying again.”

“Seriously. Plotting your death right now.”

“How would you do it?”

“By telling you what an amazing time I had last night! By telling you it’s like nothing else! Like it’s totally the best thing ever!” Stiles snapped. Then reality hit. And suddenly he had four pairs of werewolf eyes on him. Foot? Meet mouth.

“Nice.” Scott said.

“Totally.” Erica agreed, kind of in a daze.

Jackson looked like he was about to hurl. Derek had a smirk on his face like he was so damn pleased with himself. Stiles wanted to kill him.

“Enough. Leave him alone.” Derek ordered just as Stiles was seriously considering turning around and going back home. “Isaac and Boyd are in position. You can ask Stiles all about it when we get home.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Alpha, who just smirked a bit more before turning around and walking away. Erica slapped Stiles on the back before trotting forward after Derek. Jackson motioned in the air that he was going to throw up. Scott smiled over at Stiles and Stiles just wanted to hit something.

“I’m never letting you drag me to one of these things again.”

This time, Scott didn’t even bother pointing out the lie. Because they both knew Stiles would come to the next one.

**_NOW_ **

****

The rest of the afternoon continues in a similar fashion. By the time nightfall comes, Stiles’ body is covered in bite marks. There’s a particularly sensitive one on his inner right thigh, right where Derek had bit him before wrapping his mouth around him. And that _mouth_ clearly knew what it was doing because Stiles was a quivering mess in no time. And he figures, he likes the way his body feels. He likes he marks he’s been given. They’re not permanent like the one on his neck, but he kind of feels himself wishing they were.

And Derek continues his snuffling _._ It’s clearly a thing, an instinct, and something he does whenever Stiles is basking in the afterglow. Like he’s inhaling everything Stiles is feeling in that moment, everything Derek has made him feel, like it turns him on. And Stiles is overly shocked at his body’s abilities when he’s with Derek. Stamina, for one, but also… well, stamina. Considering the amount of times he’s been reduced to a twitching heap on crimson sheets in the past few hours. He’d beat his own personal record.

At least that any record he can remember.

Derek is leaning over him, inhaling deeply at the crook of his neck with one hand at the side of his head to support his weight. Their legs are tangled messily in the bed sheets. Stiles’ hand is tracing small circles into the Alpha’s back.

The Stiles feels himself chuckle. Derek makes a noise somewhere against his neck. “I just realised I didn’t even say hello.”

“Hello.” Derek says quietly in response, not making any motion to move from where he’s got his face pressed against the freckles decorating the side of Stiles’ neck.

“Hi.” Stiles says stupidly.

“You _do_ smell different.” Derek states, like he’s talking to no one in particular.

“Uh, what?”

“The others… they said you smell different.” Derek pulls away then to look down at Stiles. “I just thought you’d finally – let go.”

Something about the way Derek struggles to get the words out resonates in Stiles’ bones and makes them ache. He tries to lighten the mood. “You’re telling me your lackies have been sniffing me?”

“Yes.”

“Is _that_ why Peter scared he half to death the other night?” Stiles barks and raises an eyebrow up at the Alpha. “Because, seriously. If all he wanted to do was get a whiff of _eu de Stiles_ , all he had to do was say so. Not that I’d have let him. He’s really—”

“Scared you half to death?”

“Yeah. He pretty much jumped out at me. He was hiding in the dark like he was pretending to be a ghost or something.”

Derek growls, but it isn’t the kind of growl Stiles wants to hear. He makes a move to push himself away from the bed. “He didn’t tell me that.”

Stiles grabs onto his arm because _no._ Derek isn’t getting away from him this time. “Don’t go.”

Derek hesitates, and it breaks Stiles’ heart. He doesn’t know how to express how he feels anymore. Eventually, after deliberating, Derek settles on his side next to him and places a hand over his heart. But he doesn’t say anything, he just closes his eyes.

“So.” Stiles croaks, unaware of how small he sounds. “I smell different?”

“Yes.”

“Different _how_?”

“Better. Raw.” Derek states, like he can’t form sentences anymore. Stiles watches him and reaches out to touch his face. “Mine.”

“Oh.” Stiles manages, trailing his thumb along the Alpha’s stubble and enjoying the friction it brings. “Nice.”

Derek’s eyes open. “Nice?”

“Yeah. Nice.” In response, Derek furrows his eyebrows at Stiles. It prompts him to explain. “I mean, it’s good, right? That I don’t smell different. Because that would be bad, I’m guessing, because I don’t know. I’m new at this. I mean—now, at least. And feel free to step in at any time because I’m running out of ways to tell you I’m sorry and I’m an idio—”

“You aren’t an idiot.”

“I feel like one.” Stiles closes his eyes and exhales.

“You’re not.” Derek leans forward and presses his lips against Stiles’ forehead and lets them linger there. “I am.”

“We both are, then.” Stiles laughs, trying to ignore the nerves creeping in. “I—remembered. Some things. From before.”

And it’s like suddenly he has one very large and very tense werewolf lying next to him. Derek turns into a statue and Stiles begins to panic. “Woah, hey. I mean it’s _good._ It’s really good. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“What do you remember?” Derek asks, but it looks like he’s gritting his teeth.

“It’s just flashes, uh, it’s like I’m dreaming. You know how when you wake up from a dream but you can only remember bits and pieces?” Stiles waits for Derek to nod stiffly before he continues. “It’s like that. I remember the day it happened. The day _we_ happened. I remember what it felt like.”

Derek is quiet whilst he listens to Stiles tell him about the flashes. All of them. And he occasionally nods or hums to confirm something Stiles tells him. After a while, Stiles starts feeling breathless. Like he’s just expressed what he’s been trying to for the past few months. Like he’s had a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“And after I looked at the pictures, I felt like I didn’t have a choice anymore. I had to come here. And when I saw you I realised I _did_ have a choice.” Stiles says honestly, looking at Derek’s eyes. “Like my body and mind finally agreed on something. And I chose you.”

“You—” Derek starts but cuts himself off and closes his eyes.

“I’m trying to say that I feel it. The bond. I’m not fighting anymore.” Stiles leans forward and presses a kiss to Derek’s cheek. When he’s about to pull back, the Alpha puts his hand over Stiles’ neck and pulls him back in and kisses him. It’s not like the other kisses. It’s slower, gentler, and so incredibly _right._ A heat radiates from Derek’s lips onto his own, spreading through his cheeks and nose. And Stiles can feel the _love_ in it before he realizes it isn’t Derek’s love, it’s his own. He loves Derek. He actually _loves_ him. It’s not just feelings anymore. The shock of it makes him pull back and enjoy the way the Alpha’s lips chase him.

“Derek, I—”

“Don’t.” Derek interrupts. “Don’t say it if you’re not ready.”

Stiles presses his lips into a firm line of determination. “I am.”

“I love you.” Derek beats him to it. Stiles feels his determination crumble because holy _hell_ hearing him say it out loud, at this proximity, makes his toes tingle.

“I love _you._ ” Stiles states, like it’s some kind of contest, but it ends up coming out more breathless than challenging. Derek starts smiling wide, flashing his teeth. And Stiles really has no choice but to kiss him again.

Stiles is sure Peter’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he opens the door and sees him sitting at the dining table. There’s a tensing in the air and Stiles feels a shiver ghost along his spine. Peter is still wearing the same t-shirt as before, the one that sags at his midsection and makes him look small. He might have cracked a joke about it but decides against it since Peter already looks like he’s hallucinating. Stiles is wearing a set of pyjamas – his own, from his own wardrobe – and biting at his thumb nail. There’s a soft hum of the shower coming from the bathroom, where Derek is currently letting off some steam.

“Here to scare me again?” Stiles asks, looking over at Peter who looks like he’s just stepped into another dimension. “You need a minute, right. Tell me when you’re ready to make your comeback. I’ll be here.”

“You’re here.” Peter says, looking as white as a sheet. Stiles waves sheepishly from where he sits. Then, Peter is _sniffing_ the air and making his way into the loft. He comes to a stop just at the edge of the table and Stiles is already feeling uncomfortable by how close he is. He won’t stop sniffing.

“I’m pretty sure that’s harassment.” Stiles barks, then taps his nose at Peter’s puzzled expression.

“Hard to ignore.” Peter grunts, then takes a seat in front of Stiles like he lives here. But… okay, does he?

“Making yourself at home?”

“I live here.” Well, that answers that.

“Since when?”

“Since you traumatised my nephew.” Peter spits, but even Stiles can see that his resolve is crumbling at the sight of him. Whatever it is the werewolf can smell, it’s obviously easing the tension between them. But only a little. There’s always some kind of uneasiness between them because Peter is… Peter. And a weirdo.

“So when you said you were in town…” Stiles trails off and leaves Peter to finish the sentence.

“I’ve been living here pretty much since you had your accident.” Peter tells him, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. “So?”

“So.” And that’s all Stiles has to offer.

“So, you’re back?”

“You’re back!” Comes a shout from his left. Stiles whips his head around to see Erica sashaying into the loft with a grin on her face. “No way!”

“Give him some space.” Boyd grumbles from behind her, but it looks like he’s smiling too. Isaac and Scott follow closely behind them, but Scott stops in his tracks when he sees Stiles.

“Stiles?” Scott asks like he can’t believe his eyes. “You’re here?”

“Okay, I think we’ve all established that I am, indeed, here.” Stiles snaps back, throwing his arms out in the air and standing up. His chair makes an unpleasant sound against the floor and he winces. “I didn’t expect a welcoming party.”

“We live here.” Boyd says, and Stiles almost has a meltdown.

“ _All_ of you?” He barks.

“Not me.” Scott comments. Erica shakes her head as well.

“So, you three decided to move into the loft?” Stiles’ eyes land on Isaac, because if anyone’s going to tell the truth, it’s him. “Why?”

Isaac shrugs passively. “I didn’t want Derek to be on his own.”

“I’m not.” Derek’s voice makes Stiles jump to the side and collide with the chair at his legs. He winces, because it’s totally going to bruise. Derek is shirtless, still glistening from the shower, but at least he has jeans on now. Otherwise Stiles might have done something embarrassing like jump him. “Not anymore.”

“Is that your way of telling us to move out?” Peter asks, a smirk on his face. Derek rolls his eyes and takes a few steps forward. He looks just as surprised as Stiles does when suddenly Erica’s arms are around him. Stiles pushes down the weird spark of possessiveness he feels.

After a while, Derek returns the embrace. “I’m fine.”

“Took you long enough.” Erica bites back, then punches Derek on the shoulder and lets go. Scott is looking at Derek like he’s proud of him, and Derek smiles back. Okay, what? When did that happen? Since when did they look at each other like that?

And that’s how Stiles ends up the recipient of numerous wolf-hugs over the next few minutes. And they all _sniff_ him. All of them. Until Scott puts his arm over Stiles’ shoulders and Stiles snaps.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t have to.” Scott says, gripping his shoulders tight. “You’re broadcasting.”

“Stay out of my head, Scott!” Stiles barks back, trying to wiggle his way out of the other’s embrace. It’s futile, though, since Scott weights about the same as a ton of bricks.

It isn’t long before Stiles feels himself gravitating towards Derek. It starts as a small nagging inside his chest, then materialises into a burning sensation at the back of his neck until he eventually caves and brushes their shoulders together for some kind of relief. Derek seems to sense it on him as soon as he comes closer, and presses himself away from the kitchen counter and wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist. He was in the middle of making breakfast for a bunch of hungry werewolves, so the kitchen is looking like a bit of a war zone, understandably. But he drops it all in favour of pressing his nose to Stiles’ neck and inhaling.

Stiles relaxes into it, feeling the tension fizzle from his shoulders. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Derek leans back to look at him and, god, those eyes? Going to be the death of him.

“…You know, _snuffle_ me.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No! I do.” Stiles stammers, gripping onto the Alpha’s biceps and shaking his head. “I just wanted to know why.”

Derek hesitates before saying, “It’s hard to describe. You scent pulls me to you and keeps me grounded. And it’s more… it’s stronger after certain things.”

“Certain things.” Stiles repeats like he doesn’t know. Like he wants Derek to say it.

“Yes.” Derek leans in like he’s obviously caught on to Stiles’ pressing. “After pleasure, especially.”

Stiles gulps. “Oh.”

Derek laughs and loosens his arms. “Hungry?”

“Yeah. Starving.” Stiles tells him, pulling away and resting against the counter. He acts like it’s nothing, like they didn’t totally spend the entire day and night yesterday getting it on.

“Hot pocket?” Derek offers, turning his back to Stiles and returning to the pineapple he’s dissecting. “There’s pepperoni in the fridge.”

Stiles gags. “Ugh, no. I’ll pass.”

“Really?” Derek looks over his shoulder curiously. Stiles shrugs. “Meat?”

Stiles shrugs again, thinking of Allison. It brings a frown to his face. “I stopped eating it a while ago. The thought of it makes me want to hurl.”

Derek smiles over at him like he’s made of diamonds or something. “You were a vegetarian before.”

“I know.” Stiles says and looks down at his feet, regretting his decision not to wear socks. “Allison told me.”

Derek hums in response before turning his head back around. “What else did she tell you?”

“Everything. I guess. Most of it, anyway.” Stiles says. “We’ve been talking some. Not much.”

“That’s good.” Derek says like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t affect him.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you just saying that because you don’t want me to know how unnerved you are by it all?”

“No.”

“Derek.” Stiles snaps, trying to glare but struggling when the Alpha side eyes him. “You’re really okay with it?”

“I am now.” Derek says. He turns his attention to the diced pineapple in his hands and starts putting it onto a large plate. He wipes his hands on his jeans before continuing. “Scott is here, isn’t he?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Stiles’ eyes wander towards his friend, who’s laughing over at Erica. Erica looks less than pleased. Peter is rolling his eyes at them but there’s a quirk in his lips like he’s dying to smile. “Yeah, he is.”

“I told him I’d accept Allison back into the pack, too.”

“What?” Stiles whips his head back around. But Derek looks calm.

“If she wants it. She was acting out of loyalty to her family, and I get it. She didn’t know what Kate had done.” Derek tells him honestly. “And I know what it feels like when someone hurts your family.”

Stiles feels the urge to touch Derek after he says it, so he does. He reaches out and puts a hand over the Alpha’s forearm, halting his movements. “You still have family here.”

Isaac pops his head in the doorway. “Is it ready yet? We’re starving.”

“In a minute.” Derek dismisses him, then looks down at Stiles’ hand on his arm with a small, sad smile. “Yes, I still have family here.”

“And you have me.” Stiles tells him honestly, leaning down to try to get Derek to look at him. “I’m here now. I’m not leaving again.”

Derek’s smile is worth it.

So, they feed the werewolves with fruit and toast and something that looks like poached salmon. Stiles dodges it religiously. Scott’s shoulder brushes his own when he reaches for his fourth slice of toast, chomping into it like a savage. Erica asks him where his manners are, to which she gets a half-hearted kick under the table. Boyd is at her other side quietly sipping on his coffee. Peter is behind them perched on the metal staircase with a bowl of pineapple in his lap, seemingly happy to be kept out of it all. Until Isaac sits on one of the steps lower than him and offers a piece of his toast. Peter takes it warily, before smiling and rolling his eyes.

Derek is sitting at the head of the table, directly opposite Stiles on the other end. He’s sipping his coffee, stopping a few times to scold Erica. And Stiles thinks, yeah, he’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be a little while until the next update. Also I didn't have time to have this chapter beta'd so any mistakes will be fixed as soon as they can. <3


	9. Mordre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
> **Chapter Title Translation:** Mordre - Bite

**_NOW_ **

****

Derek doesn’t even see it coming. He doesn’t smell it coming. There’s a shuffle outside his door. He expects his pack to be at the other side ready to tell him how their run was. He’d sent them out for fresh air, as he’d called it, for the entire day so they could all let off some steam. Because he knows the situation has taken its toll on them as much as it has taken its toll on him. And with the new addition of Scott to the pack, well, he figures there has to be some kind of rite of passage. Derek knows his pack well, and knows them enough to sense the distrust between them and Scott. It's something that has to be addressed sooner or later. And he figures the sooner the better.

Then he can get some peace and quiet for the night and contemplate where he went wrong along the path. It’s as ineffective as always considering Derek tosses and turns on the sofa before angrily standing up and pacing around the room until the sun comes up. Or the rain, apparently. He watches as it batters against the large windows of the loft and trickles down the side of the building with an unsettling dripping noise. He feels beaten and broken by nothing but the air around him. Like it’s too thin and he’s suffocating, and he's clawing at his own throat for relief.

Then, sometime in the afternoon after he’s managed to snap out of it and organise himself, there’s a sharp screech like tires skidding to a stop on the asphalt outside. Then a distinct _slam_ of a car door, but only one. Derek furrows his brow, thinking of his pack. Did something happen? Would he have to clean up another mess before his own?

When there’s no further movement, Derek sends a quick text to Erica just to satisfy his own curiosity. No response. He’s in the middle of putting his phone on the dining table when there’s a distinct squeak of sneakers on the floor outside. Derek raises an eyebrow over to the door.

He saunters over and stops in his tracks a few feet back. That’s when he hears the heartbeat, the one he knows well. Too well. The one he never thought he’d hear again. And it’s _racing._ It’s pounding so hard inside that small ribcage, he thinks it might pop right out.

And then the door slides open with a groan and Stiles is standing there, half panting and soaking wet. His hair is splayed across his forehead and dripping onto the floor at his feet. His cheeks are tinged pink and his eyelashes flutter against his skin before his eyes zone in on Derek.

Derek feels like his heart stops. Stiles is there. Stiles is in the loft – a sight he thought he’d never see again. A sight that ceases all movement in his body and he stands there frozen to the ground, unable to move his feet or legs.

Stiles stares him down for a long moment. Derek can hear the drips coming from his clothes land on the floor and into a small puddle at his shoes. Sneakers. The ones he’d heard outside his door. The air escapes Derek’s lungs at the sight, and he’s afraid to breathe, he’s afraid to catch Stiles’ scent again. He doesn’t want to know if it’s different. He doesn’t want to know what it’s like to have his own mate reject him.

It only takes a moment. The beating of Stiles’ heart steadies, and he pushes forwards into the loft. Derek watches him, frozen, and watches as two cold hands cup his face. Then Stiles kisses him like he’s trying to push Derek backwards. Derek fights a stumble, frozen to the spot with his arms at his sides and his entire body tense.

A sharp sound of thunder erupts and echoes throughout the loft, perking his attention and causing him to take a sharp inhale of breath. Stiles’ scent hits him like a train, and he figures, he’d gladly step in front of it again just to relive this moment. Because Stiles doesn’t smell the same… he smells better. And more importantly, he smells like _his_.

And that’s all the confirmation he needs, really. He wraps his arms around Stiles’ soaking wet body and holds him tight like he’s afraid to let go ever again. The thought would terrify him, but when his back collides with the wall he’d generously taken his anger out on before, there’s no fear left in him. Because Stiles is _here._ And they’re kissing. And the life returns to Derek’s eyes, and they glow bright and blue.

Stiles is undressing him. Which is new, but certainly welcomed. Derek loses himself, overtaken by his instincts, and bites Stiles again into the old wound. He renews it, savours the flavour, and re-claims Stiles as his. Before he realises what he’s done, and is about to pull away and profusely apologise that he can’t control himself, Stiles makes a noise in the back of his throat that effectively erases the idea from his mind.

He loses control again very quickly, starved for the attention his mate gives him. He hoists Stiles up and presses him against the sofa, kissing and licking and biting any skin he can get his mouth on. Stiles writhes under him and arches his back, submitting, and Derek can’t stop himself. He sinks his teeth into his mate’s body again and again until Stiles is a panting mess under him.

Chemistry. Instinct. That’s what it is. And Stiles feels it. He surrenders himself to it, by the looks of it, and Derek isn’t about to let the opportunity go to waste. Not this time. Not when he can’t control himself, not when he’s given up fighting the wolf inside him. He has to take what’s his. That’s all he can think about.

Then Stiles is stripped naked beneath him and everything else is background noise. Stiles _welcomes_ it. Begs for it like he can’t control his own voice, like he doesn’t even register that he’s doing it. When the intensity overcomes him, Derek follows closely behind, unable to hold himself back at the sight.

The scent is overwhelming and maddening and _perfect._ He breathes it in wherever he can. Stiles’ neck, face, arms, shoulders, everywhere. It’s like a combination of fresh cut grass and tobacco, masked by pleasure and endorphins and Derek loses himself to it. Because he _made_ Stiles smell that way. Smell like _his._

He can’t keep his hands to himself after that. In the shower, pressing Stiles’ naked body against the cool shower tiles, or in the bedroom, where he watches Stiles’ hands curl into fists in the sheets. And so he marks him, head to toe, claiming him over and over again until he’s sure Stiles never wants to leave again.

It doesn’t take much coaxing, it seems, before Stiles is switching their positions and doing the same thing. Biting, scratching, kissing all over him. Derek’s head falls against the pillow and he surrenders himself to his mate. Stiles’ eyes are glowing like they’ve never before. Derek isn’t even sure if he’s aware of it, but they glow a dark shade of red whenever Derek makes a sound beneath him. A side effect of mating, he thinks, but why now? It hadn’t happened before. So, why?

Then Stiles’ lips are on his again and he figures, it doesn’t matter why.

“He just turned up? In this storm?”

“That’s what I said.” Derek says, shuffling around the kitchen and making no attempt to hide the teeth marks decorating his neck and arms. Isaac eyes them with curiosity, probably wondering what it feels like. What it feels like to find a mate, someone who’s made for him and only him. Derek doesn’t know how to tell him how life changing it is. “I didn’t even hear him coming.”

“Maybe because you were apart for so long.” Isaac shrugs and pushes himself off the counter to pick a few plates out of the cupboard. “Your senses weren’t as good.”

“Maybe.”

The beta gives Derek a soft smile, taking a plate of toast from an entire loaf of bread into his hands. “They’ll get better now, right? Now that Stiles is here.”

Derek pauses the knife in his hands, ready to slice through the third pineapple he’s going to cut this morning. Feeding a house of werewolves is a daunting task at times. “Yeah. They will. It’s not just that…”

“What is it?” Isaac prompts when Derek doesn’t continue, a worried look flashing across his features. Derek shakes his head and lowers his voice.

“Stiles’ eyes.” Derek tells him, turning his head towards the beta. “They glowed red last night.”

“That’s cool. What do you think it means? Is he turning into one of us?”

“No.” Derek says firmly, and watches as Isaac raises an eyebrow at his blunt reaction. “Think it’s more of a mate thing. But it’s never happened before.”

“We’ll find out. I’ll ask Peter.” Isaac tells him with a reassuring look. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t think so.” Derek says. “I don’t think Stiles was even aware of it.”

Isaac makes a soft humming sound. “It could be something residual coming from you. I mean…”

Derek raises an eyebrow, and Isaac points to Derek’s neck. There’s a few prominent teeth marks decorating his neck, spreading down to beneath his t-shirt. “You think I did it?”

“It’s possible.” Isaac looks away, and Derek is positive he sees the beta’s cheeks turn pink. “You’re an Alpha. And you bit all of us.”

“I didn’t bite Scott.”

“That’s not the point.” Isaac rolls his eyes and tightens his hold on the plate in his hands. “The point is, you gave us the bite and now we’re like you. You’re sure you didn’t give it to Stiles?”

“I wouldn’t.” Derek says firmly, and his eyes must flash because suddenly Isaac flinches. He clears his throat. “Sorry. But I wouldn’t turn Stiles against his will. I wouldn’t do that to him.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t want it?”

Derek pauses. Isaac is looking at him with a raised brow. “He rejected Peter’s offer.”

“But he hasn’t rejected yours.”

“No. But I haven’t offered.”

“I don’t know.” Isaac shrugs, then steadies the plate in his hands before a piece of toast topples over. He sighs and looks towards the doorway, watching the pack interact. “Has Stiles ever… uh, you know.” Isaac looks pointedly at Derek’s neck, like he can’t get the words out.

“No.” Derek says. “He’s never done this before.”

And it’s true. Stiles never bit Derek like that before, but it isn’t something the Alpha is against. And Stiles seemed like he couldn’t control it when he’d sunk his teeth into Derek’s skin.

“I’ll talk to Peter.” Isaac repeats himself, to which Derek nods and motions with his head to the plate of toast still in the beta’s hands.

“Better take that out to them. I don’t need Erica coming in here and insisting she helps because I’m not going fast enough.”

“Right. Sure. See you in a bit, boss.” Isaac laughs, then disappears out the doorway. He bumps into Stiles on his way out, who looks kind of pale. Derek puts the knife in his hand down in an instant as he approaches, and swiftly wraps his arms around Stiles’ small frame.

And it feels like home after that. Erica still talks with her mouth full. Boyd still sits next to her and rolls his eyes. Scott still eats the most. Stiles still argues that he’s only human and can’t eat as much as the rest of them. And Peter is still, well, Peter. Until Isaac settles down next to him with a peace offering of toast. Peter’s smile is worth it. And Derek thinks, he hasn’t felt this much at home in a long time. His entire pack at the table.

Well, almost. Lydia, Jackson and Allison are missing.

13:03. **Dad:** _I called Melissa and she said you and Scott are at Derek’s place. Is that true?_

13:05. **Stiles:** _uh yeah sorry i guess i forgot to leave you a note. i’m still at derek’s. sleepover_

13:10. **Dad:** _Next time, leave a note. Or call._

13:11. **Stiles:** _sorry pops. it was an emergency!!!_

13:12. **Dad:** _What kind of emergency? Are you okay, son?_

13:15. **Stiles:** _i kissed derek_

13:16. **Dad:** _And?_

13:17. **Stiles:** _aaaaand i guess we’re back together. i was an idiot. i’ll be back tonight_

13:20. **Dad:** _Don’t feel the need to rush back on my account. Stay as long as you need. And son, I’m proud of you._

Stiles smiles down at his phone. Seriously, best dad ever.

He’s settled on the sofa by then, watching Erica and Boyd play-fight over the last slice of toast on the floor. Derek sits next to him with his arm over the back of the sofa, and every now and then, his fingers brush against Stiles shoulder and squeeze. Scott has already gone home to talk to Allison about everything. He’s taken Derek’s offer to heart and wants to deal with it on his own. But, really, Stiles knows probably Derek will be nervous about it. But he does a great job of hiding it. A really great job, actually. His expression is mostly deadpan at the best of times, but twice Stiles has caught the Alpha’s eyebrow twitch like he’s uptight.

And Stiles gets it. Because, hey, mates and their sixth sense. And it’s _awesome._

And it’s not like he thought it would be. He’d spent so long imagining what it’d be like to hand himself over to Derek. He imagined never leaving his side due to some kind of gravitational force preventing him from moving. And he thought he’d be stuck forever. But… it really isn’t like that. Stiles knows he’s free to move wherever and whenever he wants. He’s allowed to touch Scott on the arm and feel the warmth radiating from his skin. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants without Derek breathing over him.

Because Derek doesn’t push him. Derek doesn’t make him do anything he isn’t comfortable with. It’s like they’re a team, working together and living their own lives. Stiles doesn’t feel trapped at all. Not at all. Because he can feel the raw adoration in the Alpha’s gaze when he catches it across the room. Or the warmth in his fingers as they graze his shoulder. And Stiles thinks… yeah, totally, this is where he’s supposed to be.

Derek is sitting next to him, his ankle resting on his knee, and he’s rolling his eyes at his pack. Stiles feels his heart swell in his chest. He nudges the Alpha with his elbow, prompting him to raise a brow. He holds his phone out and Derek takes it cautiously. Like he doesn’t want to intrude on Stiles’ private life.

And, seriously. Best husband ever.

“Your dad is worried about you.” Derek says quietly. He flicks through the messages and scans over the writing, reading it so quickly that even Stiles has trouble keeping up with him.

“I know. I guess I—I mean—” Stiles stammers, taking back his phone from Derek’s hand. “I kind of left in a hurry. I forgot to leave a note. I left my room in a real state.”

“Why?” Derek asks in the same quiet tone. Stiles wants to kiss him. So he does, slowly and gently, before pulling away and finding the Alpha looking a bit breathless against him.

“I was looking at some pictures of us. Not just us, I mean, _all_ of us.” Stiles gestures towards the others, at Erica who’s now lying flat on her back on the ground and panting as Boyd triumphantly takes a bite from the last piece of toast. “And, I don’t know. Something awakened inside of me. Before I knew it, I was in my jeep and driving here. I didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You didn’t say anything.” Derek laughs.

“Well, _yeah,_ state the obvious.” Stiles huffs and crosses his arms. “Next time, if you’d prefer to talk, I’ll just do that.”

“No.” Derek says instantly, and his arm drops to Stiles’ shoulders and pulls him closer. His lips graze the top of Stiles’ ear. “I wouldn’t change anything about what happened yesterday.”

Stiles’ breath catches in his throat as he looks at Derek. Derek falters slightly, like he’s concentrating, like he’s staring into Stiles’ eyes and trying to reach his soul. He starts to feel nervous, like Derek is scanning his eyes for something. The Alpha’s own eyes flash blue.

“As much as we’re all ecstatic about the two of you being back together,” Erica says from the floor in front of them, “if you could keep the dirty talk to a minimum whilst my ears are in the vicinity, I’d really appreciate it.”

“It isn’t even dirty talk!” Stiles barks back, mortified. Erica rolls her eyes.

“Stiles, I have a nose.” She tells him, rolling over onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands. “I know what arousal smells like.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles covers his eyes with his forearm and leans against the sofa, embarrassed. Derek laughs next to him but it sounds forced. What the hell is that about?

“It’s nothing new.” The Alpha states like _the whole freaking room_ didn’t just sniff out the tension in the air.

“It’s nauseating.” Peter’s voice echoes from somewhere above them. He’d scurried back to whatever hole he came from shortly after breakfast. And apparently that hole is Derek’s attic. Where he’s been living. _Weird._

“It’s not.” Isaac snaps back, having followed Peter up there. _Weird 2.0._

Stiles’ phone buzzes and scares the absolute _crap_ out of him. He jumps in his seat so much that Derek tightens his hold on his shoulders.

13:35. **Scotty:** _Can we talk?_

Stiles frowns and shows it to Derek, who looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel.

“Show time.” Erica states, and yeah, she’s never been more right about anything in her life.

The drive to Scott’s house is less than pleasant considering Stiles squirms in his seat the entire way there. He’d managed to convince the others to let him go on his own. Derek had been the toughest to convince, but eventually he’d caved when Stiles promises him to come back with a bag of clothes and stay for a while until he can arrange something with his dad. A conversation he’s _really_ not ready for. Like, _hey, dad, so, I’m moving back in with Derek, okay? Bye!._

It’s really not going to go well.

Derek kisses him after that, long and slow until Stiles feels breathless when he’s getting into his car. Like the Alpha is trying to make sure he’ll come back. He doesn’t know how to say that he can’t stay away from Derek if he _tries._ Not anymore.

When Stiles approaches Scott’s house, he sees his friend already sitting on the front porch steps. Allison is next to him, her head tucked against his friend’s shoulder. Stiles sighs deeply as he cuts the engine, parking just out front. Scott rises to his feet instantly, dragging Allison with him. They’re holding hands like they’re both trying to keep each other upright. And Stiles, as much as he hates to admit, understands the concept. Derek’s hands make him feel safe whenever they’re on him.

Stiles closes the jeep door behind him gently and looks over at them cautiously. There’s bad blood between them for sure, but if Allison’s face is anything to go by, she’s more than sorry.

“Hey.” Scott says the minute Stiles makes his way into the front yard and stops a few feet away from them. Then, Scott sniffs the air and _really?_ “Nice.”

“You too?” Stiles barks, flailing his arms. He catches Allison smile before she can stop herself. “ _Seriously?_ ”

“Sorry. Force of habit.” Scott laughs like he’s totally not invading Stiles’ personal life with that superhero nose of his. “Um, actually, I guess you know why you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Stiles prompts, looking at Allison. The girl gives him a small smile but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Scott clears his throat and tenses like he can sense the impending argument.

“I told her about Derek’s offer to return to the pack.”

“And?”

“And I told him I wasn’t comfortable with it.” Allison says, and her voice is so small and cute that Stiles feels the tension drain from his shoulders. “Not unless you were okay with it.”

Stiles doesn’t really know how to respond to that. So he doesn’t. He just stands stupidly with his arms at his sides and looks at them. Allison looks up at Scott with worry, but his friend isn’t looking at either of them. Because he knows the decision isn’t up to him now. It’s up to Stiles. Because Derek had made it so, giving Stiles the authority to decide.

“And if you’re not, I’d understand.” Allison continues when the awkwardness hits its peak. “I did a horrible thing. And I regret it every single day, Stiles. I still don’t speak to my father unless I have to. I can still hear Derek’s scre—”

“Don’t.” Stiles interrupts, because no, that part is just too much.

“I’m sorry.” Allison says in understanding. “But I want you to know that nothing like that will ever happen again. I’m so sorry, Stiles. And I’m sorry to Derek too, if he’ll ever let me apologise in person.”

Stiles deliberates for a moment. Allison’s eyes are watering like she’s too choked up to continue. Scott lets go of her hand in favour of putting his arm around her waist, but that’s all he has to offer for the conversation at hand. And Stiles appreciates it immensely.

“Okay.” Stiles says after a moment of silence. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Scott prompts, eyes on him.

“Okay.” Stiles confirms, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he holds his hand out for Allison to shake in an all too familiar gesture. Allison takes it gingerly, a small sob escaping her throat before she can hold it back. “But next time your dad tells you anything, you come to us first. Don’t take matters into your own hands ever again.”

“Absolutely.” Allison says, nodding with wide eyes.

“Good, because it’s stupid.” Stiles says, shaking Allison’s hand firmly. Scott watches him with something like pride in his eyes. “And you’re not stupid.”

“She’s not.” Scott interjects, but Stiles shoots him a look to shut him up. Allison shakes her head.

“I’m not. Not anymore.” Allison falters, their hands lingering together. Then suddenly she’s got her arms wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders and all Stiles can do, really, is return the embrace. He laughs and spins them around in a circle, feeling Allison’s legs sway in the air. She lets out a startled laugh when he puts her back on her feet, grinning.

“Good. Because I’ve got enough stupid in my life if you know what I mean.” Stiles says as he lets her go and gestures with his head towards Scott. His friend seems appalled and smacks Stiles on the chest.

“Hey!”

“Just the facts!”

Scott and Allison share an embrace after that, and Stiles watches them in awe. They’re not mates, but they’re as close to mates as anyone could ever be. The mark on his neck starts to tingle and he rubs at it soothingly. His phone buzzes.

15:15. **Sourwolf:** _Are you okay?_

Stiles gapes down at his phone. _Sourwolf._ So _that’s_ why he couldn’t find Derek in his phone before. God, why didn’t he think of that? Grinning, he texts back.

15:16. **Stiles:** _all good. your pack is getting bigger. don’t let it get to your head_

15:17. **Sourwolf:** _Allison accepted my offer? What happened?_

Scott starts looking concerned after that. Allison nods at Stiles.

15:20. **Stiles:** _she apologised. a lot. a LOT a lot. i told her she can come back if she promises she won’t do it again and will consult us first before she does anything_

15:21. **Sourwolf:** _Do you believe her?_

15:26. **Stiles:** _yeah i do. better get ready tho. you’ll be having to pry them off eachother again in no time_

15:27. **Sourwolf:** _Something tells me they might be the ones having to pry people off each other._

Stiles nearly drops his phone after that. Scott starts laughing and ushers him into the house. They sit in the living room for a while, and Stiles manages to catch up with Allison. He tells her what happened, what’s going on, everything. And he tells her about his memories. They still haven’t come back, but the flashes, well, they leave something to be desired. Scott is halfway through demolishing a packet of Oreos.

“If you want I can talk to my dad about it.” Allison offers, side-eyeing her boyfriend who’s got Oreo all over his teeth. “He might know someone who could help you recover your memories.”

“Something tells me he won’t be willing to help.” Scott manages, swishing milk around in his mouth. Allison grimaces at him.

“Yeah, hello?” Stiles points at himself. “Married a werewolf.”

“Hello?” Scott says back in the same tone, pointing to Allison. “ _Dating_ a werewolf.”

Allison rolls her eyes. “He’s made his peace with it. And I’m not a little girl anymore. I can make my own choices.” At that moment, Scott decides to start coughing and spit out half-chewed pieces of Oreo onto the coffee table. Stiles yelps and dodges the spray. Allison deadpans and looks over at Stiles. “Although, I’m beginning to question those choices.”

“Sorry.” Scott looks guilty. Allison dismisses him with a wave of her hand and makes her way to the kitchen to get something to clean it up. Scott clears his throat. “So, what’s going on with your smell, man?”

“ _What?_ ” Stiles barks. Seriously, do werewolves think it’s okay to just _ask_ that?

“Your scent.” Scott continues like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. “It’s different.”

“I didn’t think it was bad.” Stiles frowns. “Derek told me—”

“It’s not bad. It’s just…” Scott sniffs the air again like he’s trying to confirm something in himself. “You smell like us.”

“Us?”

“Like a werewolf.”

“ _What?”_

Scott holds his hands up in surrender. Stiles is on the verge of a meltdown. A werewolf? Seriously _what?_ Scott’s nose must be broken. He’s used it too much. It’s finally conked out on him.

“It’s true!” Scott exclaims. “Derek never said anything?”

Stiles furrows his brow. No, definitely not. Derek didn’t say anything about that. But it was so _totally_ going to come up later. “No, he didn’t. Is there something wrong with me?”

“Of course not.” Allison says from the kitchen, appearing in the archway with a paper towel in her hands. She approaches them and sits back down next to Scott, making quick work of the mess he’s made on the coffee table. “But judging from your arms, it’s probably something Derek did.”

Stiles looks down at his arms in confusion. That’s when he’s reminded of the bite marks decorating his freckled skin. He shields himself in embarrassment, cursing himself for wearing short sleeves. “What do you mean it’s probably something Derek did?”

“The bite marks.” Allison says, making no motion to continue as she picks up squishy pieces of Oreo and grimaces. “Honey, gross.”

“I said sorry.” Scott retorts, then returns his attention to Stiles who looks like he’s got a screw loose at this point. “He could’ve transferred something to you through the bites.”

“Like an STD?”

Allison deadpans. Scott’s face contorts and it’s just a little bit worth it.

“ _No,_ Stiles. Seriously?”

Allison rolls her eyes. “More like he gave you some of his power.”

“His _power?_ ” Stiles starts flailing his arms in the air like he’s a plane and he wants to take off. Anything to get away from this situation. “What power?”

“His _werewolf_ power.” Allison looks at him like she can’t believe he’d even ask that. Well, excuse _me._

“Explain!”

“Relax, dude.” Scott shushes him, pressing a kiss to Allison’s cheek before she disappears back into the kitchen. “You’re his mate. It’s normal for your senses to be heightened when you’re with him, right?” Scott waits for Stiles to nod sheepishly before continuing. “That’s not something humans can do normally. So there’s already a transfer of power between you. I’m guessing it’s just stronger now. I mean, if your arms are anything to go by, he probably bit you a _lot._ ”

“ _Dude._ ” Stiles flails. “Not _helping._ ”

“Just the facts.” Scott barks back, and Stiles feels like throwing himself out of the window. “You really didn’t notice anything?”

“No.” Stiles shakes his head honestly. He watches as Allison returns to her spot next to Scott and smiles softly. “Well, actually. Maybe.”

“What happened?” Allison asks. Stiles shakes his head again. Derek had been kind of weird in the morning, right? There was that moment where he had faltered against Stiles, scanning his face like he was looking for _something._ Staring at his eyes and flashing his own back at him.

“He was looking at me this morning.” Stiles says, knowing it’s probably not going to explain anything, but that’s really all he’s got.

“Dude, tell me something we don’t know.” Scott retorts. Stiles reaches over the coffee table to smack him.

“What do you mean he was looking at you?” Allison asks once the boys are finished with their pathetic swatting. Stiles shrugs a bit and leans back against the sofa.

“Like he was looking for something in my eyes.” Stiles says, pointedly looking away because he can’t handle anyone else trying to do it.

“Your eyes?” Scott asks passively, then turns to Allison. “You think they changed colour?”

“Maybe.” Allison replies, then Stiles whips his head back around to gawk at her. “Has it ever happened before?”

“How would _I_ know?” Stiles barks.

“True.” Allison confirms. “Just ask him about it. He’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Just ask him what, Allison?” Stiles shakes his head wildly. “Like what? Hey, did you turn me into a werewolf whilst I wasn’t looking?”

Allison laughs but Scott’s face contorts. “No, silly. Just ask him about the residual effects of the biting. He’ll know better than we do. He’s an Alpha.”

“Yeah, but he’s only been an Alpha for a year.” Scott points out. “He might not know. He hasn’t had a mate before.”

“No kidding.” Stiles says flatly.

“It’s a good thing, Stiles.” Allison tells him, and something about the way she says it makes Stiles’ heart ache. “If it were me, I’d welcome it.”

Scott starts to look sad where he sits, and Stiles starts feeling guilty. Not because he’s taking being a mate for granted, because he’s not, but because he knows Scott wishes it would happen with Allison. He wishes he could give that to them. Instead of wallowing, Stiles looks at Allison with soft eyes. “Is there any way we could test it?”

“What do you mean?” Scott chirps in, interested now. Allison puts her hand on his arm to hold him back, gesturing to Stiles to continue.

“I don’t know, like. Test if I have powers,” Stiles makes air quotations, “or whatever. Is there any way we can try it out?”

“I don’t know.” Allison says, disappointed. She looks at Scott for encouragement.

“Maybe. Is there any time you feel like your bond is at its strongest?”

“Uh.” Stiles blurts out, thinking of being in bed with Derek. But it isn’t really something he wants to share. It’s private, it’s _his._ Scott seems to understand though.

“I mean… are there any _other_ times?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles says. “Sometimes if we’re just talking, it’ll creep up on me before I can hold it back.”

“What about texting?” Allison asks like she’s had a brilliant idea. “Do you think that’d work?”

“I don’t…know?”

“Try it.” Scott says. Stiles takes his phone out of his jeans pocket and looks down at it curiously. “Have a conversation with him. See what happens.”

“And say what?” Stiles asks. “I can’t tell him I’m trying to figure out if I have superpowers or not.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t mind if you did.” Allison says, smiling. “But he won’t know what you’re doing. Just text him like you would normally.”

“I wouldn’t do anything normally!”

“Stiles.” Scott rolls his eyes. “Just try it.”

So Stiles does.

16:45. **Stiles:** _you okay?_

16:46. **Sourwolf:** _Are you okay?_

Stiles rolls his eyes, making Allison smile. Scott just shakes his head.

16:47. **Stiles:** _asked you first, stupid_

16:47. **Sourwolf:** _Yes. Boyd and Erica went out. Isaac is helping me with some research._

16:49. **Stiles:** _what kind of research?_

16:50. **Sourwolf:** _Werewolf stuff._

Stiles scrunches up his nose, because the idea of Derek saying the word ‘stuff’ is hilarious.

16:52. **Stiles:** _too advanced for us humans, i get it, we’re a stupid breed_

16:53. **Sourwolf:** _Far from it. Being human is what makes you who you are. It’s what makes you mine._

Scott stands up suddenly, hitting the coffee table with his shins. Allison remains seated, but there’s a look on her face like she’s afraid to move. Stiles feels something creep up on him, nagging at the back of his neck, until he feels a raw ache in his chest. Like he misses being at Derek’s side, like he’s had the air stolen from his lungs.

“Dude. Your eyes.” Scott yells, circling the coffee table and grabbing Stiles by the arm and pulling him to his feet. His friend scans his face just like Derek did, but there’s some alarm there. Like he can’t believe what he's seeing.

“What? What’s wrong with them?” Stiles says hysterically, dropping the phone onto the ground with a sharp thud. Allison has her hand on Stiles arm.

“They flashed red!”

“Scott, calm down.” Allison orders, and just like that Scott lets go of his hold on Stiles’ forearm. “Try it again.”

Stiles doesn’t really have any choice but to pick up his phone and swallow the lump in his throat.

17:00. **Stiles:** _and if i wasn’t human?_

17:01. **Sourwolf:** _Wouldn’t change anything I feel for you._

“Wow.” Allison says as she puts her hands on the sides of Stiles’ face and raises his head to look at her. “That’s amazing.”

“Is it?” Stiles asks, defeated. Scott is watching him with a curious look in his eye, like the initial shock of the situation has worn off.

“Of course it is.” Allison says firmly, making Stiles feel just a little bit better. “You’re reacting like that just because of a text message. It’s great.”

“You don’t think there’s something wrong with me?”

“No.” Scott shakes his head. “Your bond could have strengthened given everything that’s happened. You might be closer than you were before. You might be inheriting some of Derek’s behaviours.”

“His instincts.” Allison corrects.

“Yeah, his instincts. I’ve heard of it happening before.”

“So, I’m like you?” Stiles asks, wiggling out of Allison’s grasp and looking down at the text message Derek sent. He’s taken some of Derek’s power? Would that make Derek weaker? Or is it shared? He doesn’t understand the logistics of this.

“In some ways. Not all.” Scott says, not helping whatsoever.

“I’ll talk to my dad.” Allison says firmly. “Come on, let’s get you back home.”

“You’re coming with me?” Stiles asks, surprised. Because re-introducing Allison to Derek right now is really at the bottom of his to-do list.

“Allison…” Scott sounds just as unsure as Stiles does. But the woman stands her ground.

“I’ve spent enough time running from it.” She tells them. “Let’s finish it now so we can all move on.”

“Erica could kill you.” Stiles admits, watching as Scott’s nostrils flare in response. Allison shakes her head like she’s already thought of that. “Okay, well, we gotta stop at my dad’s first. I need to pick up some clothes.”

It turns out to be uneventful since his dad isn’t home. But it’s only delaying the inevitable conversation consisting of Stiles acknowledging he’s an idiot and his dad saying I told you so. He’ll deal with it sooner or later, he guesses. Allison is quiet on the drive back to Derek’s loft, sitting silently in the back seat and looking out the window. Stiles understands her. He lets Scott sit in the back with her and hold her hand. Stiles ends up putting his backpack in the passenger seat, filled with clothes and a toothbrush and anything else he thinks he might need. He really doesn’t know how long he’s going to stay at the loft before he has to go back to his dad’s again.

Stiles tugs on his seatbelt like it’s suffocating him, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to take it off. He’s not about to make the same mistake twice. And, there’s also the other thing. About his eyes flashing red. It unsettles him, sure, but it doesn’t scare him. He’s actually more intrigued by it. Yeah, the initial surprise that he might be turning into a freaking werewolf was mortifying, but not once Allison stared him down and told him everything is fine. And he’s inclined to believe her because, what else is there to do? He’ll for sure grill Derek on it, no doubt about it, because he’ll be damned if Derek is about to make himself weaker. That just isn’t happening.

He hears Allison’s sharp intake of breath as they cruise to a gentle stop outside the loft. And he gets it, he really does, because he can feel his own heart going. Scott is uncharacteristically quiet when they get out of the car, taking Allison’s hand in his own when they ascend the stairs.

“Show time.” Stiles says, opening the door. Allison nods firmly and plants her feet on the ground like she’s trying to hold it together. Scott gives Stiles a short nod, and Stiles slides the loft door open with a metallic groan.

Derek is on him in a second, pulling Stiles into the loft with one arm around him. The Alpha takes the bag from Stiles’ shoulder and holds it for him, inhaling softly at his neck.

Totally. Adorable.

Stiles just melts into it, feeling the earlier tension fizzle away. “Hello to you too.”

“Hello.” Derek says quietly, but there’s a look in his eye like he wasn’t sure if Stiles would come back in the first place. Stiles doesn’t know how to tell him how wrong he is. “You actually brought a bag.”

“You doubted me?” Stiles asks with a smirk that Derek returns warmly. “What part of ‘I’m not leaving again’ did you not understand?”

Scott clears his throat from the doorway, prompting Derek to loosen his hold on Stiles’ waist. Stiles looks back and remembers, oh, _shit_ , yeah. They’re not alone. Erica and Boyd are standing at the far side of the loft, looking dishevelled like they’ve been running around outside for a while. Isaac is next to them with eyes as big as saucers. Peter is sitting on the spiral staircase, not even looking in their direction, but Stiles can see how tense he is.

“You brought a guest.” Erica snarls, baring her teeth but making no motion to move forward. Probably Derek’s orders. No killing today.

Scott opens his mouth to snarl back, but Allison takes a step in front of him before he can. She looks smaller inside the loft, like she’s completely out of her element. Stiles hates it. She takes a few small steps forward, ignoring Erica’s snarling, getting louder as she approaches Derek.

Derek lets go of Stiles and hands his bag back to him. “Get behind me.”

The instruction is clear, and Stiles takes a few steps back behind the Alpha. He’s not about to butt in now, not when there’s so much at stake. He does, however, shoot a look over at Erica and her snarling. Boyd makes a face back at him like he knows, but he can’t stop it. Stiles figures that’s just fine, because Boyd will intervene if need be.

Derek doesn’t move forward, as if he’s keeping close to Stiles to shield him. And Stiles’ heart aches a bit, not because it’s touching – well, it is – but because it’s _Allison_ he’s being protected from. And it’s awful.

“Derek.” Allison says calmly, eyes on the Alpha a few feet away. Erica is growling now, and Boyd shushes her.

“Allison.” Derek replies, making no move to do anything. The air in here? Suffocating.

Scott stands stupidly in the doorway, upper lip twitching like he’s aching to bare his teeth. He doesn’t, though, and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. He can’t really handle any more fighting after this point. And Scott launching himself at Derek is the last thing he needs.

“I’m sorry.” Allison says honestly, raising her hand in the air like she’s swearing her honesty in a courtroom. Her hand is shaking. “I’m sorry to all of you.”

Erica scoffs, but Derek snaps his head around and growls at her, effectively ending the snarling from the other side of the room. The Alpha turns back around to Allison.

“And I know it’s not enough to make up for what I did.” Allison continues, lowering her hand as if she’s asking Derek to shake it. He doesn’t. “And I know there’s a lot of things I won’t get back, most importantly trust. But believe me, Derek, I didn’t know. I didn’t know what Kate had done. I acted out of anger before I could stop myself. And I wish I could take it back.”

There’s a beat of heavy silence in the room and Stiles is absolutely aching to break it. But he doesn’t.

“I can’t change the past, but I can change my future.” Allison continues, like she’s becoming uneasy. Stiles wishes he could take it away, but he knows the rest is up to Derek. “And I want my future to be with you. With all of you.”

Allison glances behind Derek at Stiles, who looks at her with big eyes. She looks back at the Alpha and presses her lips together firmly. “I want to accept your offer, if you’ll have me.”

There’s another long moment of silence where no one speaks. Erica doesn’t even growl. Peter is looking at Allison now, the tension in his shoulder easing considerably. Derek turns around and looks at Stiles, who nods firmly at his mate. The Alpha reaches back and takes Stiles’ hand in his own. Stiles takes a step forward and stands next to him, their hands interlocked between them. Derek raises his free hand and shakes Allison’s. Once. Firm.

“Welcome back.” He says simply. Allison starts smiling and looks back at Scott with tears in her eyes. Scott beams at her, now taking a step forward and reaching to shake Derek’s hand. Derek doesn’t hesitate this time, shaking Scott’s hand and nodding at him. There’s actually tears in Scott’s eyes now, too. Stiles feels like if his smile gets any bigger it might reach his ears.

Isaac makes his way towards the four of them and actually starts hugging Allison, like he’s been overly affected by her absence. Stiles gets the nagging feeling in his stomach that there’s some attraction there, like he can just _sense_ it. Obviously Scott can too because he’s started grimacing. Derek looks at Stiles strangely, and he swears, he _swears_ he sees his own eyes flash red in the reflection in Derek’s own. So. Sniffing out arousal is a thing he can do now. With _Isaac._ Of all people.

Great.

He doesn’t mention it the rest of the night. Scott and Stiles manage to prepare a completely vegetarian meal for everyone with little to no complaints. Allison sits at the table and eats with the rest of them with only a few glares from Erica. Everyone else warms up pretty quickly, though, and Stiles couldn’t be happier. Peter still sits away from them all, perched on the staircase as he digs into his food in silence. He’s always been a bit of a lone wolf anyway, pun intended. Stiles ends up putting his hand over Derek’s knee under the table, having sat down next to him. Derek exhales quietly and puts his hand over Stiles’ own.

“Do you feel better?” Stiles asks once they’ve all settled and he’s managed to parade Derek into their bedroom for a moment to get him alone. The Alpha isn’t protesting, with his arms around Stiles’ midsection. “That most of your pack are back together.”

“Better.” Derek confirms with a small smile, but it doesn’t exactly reach his eyes and he knows Stiles notices. “Not everyone.”

“Lydia and Jackson.” Stiles states like he knows how it feels. But the subject of Lydia is probably a sore one now. “Why did Jackson leave?”

“He didn’t appreciate the bite.” Derek tells him. “He didn’t want to deal with it.”

“And he thinks that if he runs away it’ll just disappear?” Stiles scoffs and shakes his head. “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“He’ll come back.” Stiles tells him firmly, putting his hands on Derek’s biceps. The Alpha closes his eyes at the contact and Stiles feels his gaze waver. “So, do you wanna tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Derek opens his eyes.

“How ‘bout the fact that I can apparently sense what everyone is feeling? Or the fact that my eyes are changing colour without me noticing?” Stiles barks back, and Derek actually freezes against him. “What did you do?”

“Isaac thinks it was the bites.”

“ _Isaac_ knows?” Stiles splutters. “Great. Add him to the list.”

“He thinks it gave you the gift.” Derek tells him, like he feels really guilty about it. “But it didn’t turn you.”

“So, I have all the powers but none of the teeth?”

Derek seems a bit taken back by Stiles’ outburst. “In a sense, yes. I didn’t know it was possible. We researched it all day. That’s the only conclusion that made sense.”

Stiles falls silent, considering it. He’s been having this weird feeling since the beginning, not just after the night before. Sure, it’s intensified, but he feels like it’s always been there begging to be brought to the surface. And when Derek touched his skin, or _breathed,_ or something, it managed to seep through.

“I’m sorry.” Derek says, breaking Stiles’ train of thought. “If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t do that to you, especially when you didn’t want it.”

“Didn’t want it?”

“The bite.” Derek says, loosening his grip on Stiles’ waist despite the protesting huff he gets for it. “Peter offered it to you and you refused.”

“Well, _yeah._ ” Stiles yelps, pulling Derek back against him. The Alpha seems to hesitate, watching Stiles’ face. “From _Peter._ He’s a creep. No way do I want those teeth on me.”

Derek’s eyes flash blue in anger at Stiles’ words, and he ends up backpedalling. “I just. I mean. If I did want it, I wouldn’t want it from him.”

“You want it?”

“No.” Stiles says before he can stop himself, so he figures there must be some truth to it. “And, besides. It’s not like I _need_ it now. Sure, I’m still scrawny and weak and _human_ but I can do and feel things other people can’t. That’s enough for now.”

“For now?” Derek asks, finally tightening his arms around Stiles.

Stiles nods. “For now. But you’re gonna have to teach me to control it. I can’t be flashing these babies at my dad whenever I start to miss you.”

Derek smiles softly and leans forward to press their lips together. Stiles melts into it and wraps his arms around the Alpha’s neck. Then Derek’s tongue is in his mouth and there’s nothing else to think about. He pushes Stiles backwards until the back of his calves collide with the bed and he pulls away. Stiles lips may or may not chase him.

“You’re doing it.” Derek says quietly. “Your eyes.”

“Must be you.” Stiles breathes. “You’re doing it to me.”

For whatever reason, Derek eyes flash blue at him and then they’re kissing again, so Stiles figures he must have said something _very_ right. They kiss messily – mostly on Stiles’ part – but it’s hot and wet and _dirty_ and jesus _christ._ Stiles doesn’t think he can survive this if it keeps up. One day he’ll have a heart attack and Derek’s mouth will be the death of him. And, okay, thinking about Derek’s mouth doing things is the absolute wrong thing to think about because then Stiles feels like he’s on fire.

Except the Alpha is the one who pulls back, and that’s when Stiles realises where his hands are. On Derek’s ass. Oh my god.

“The pack are here.” Derek tells him, but it’s like he’s restraining himself. He presses a wet kiss to the side of Stiles’ neck and then _sucks._ Stiles writhes against him, squeezing Derek’s behind over his jeans. Because holy _crap_ he’d actually forgotten the pack exist right now. “They’ll hear us.”

“Oh.” Stiles manages, but it comes out as more of a groan and he almost smacks himself for it. Derek’s lips are back on his and then he’s falling back against the mattress with the Alpha’s arm around his back to cushion his fall. And that’s when Stiles realises he doesn’t care. Scott and Allison know the drill, and so do Erica and Boyd. They can deal with it.

Derek obviously senses his determination because he pauses above him, looking down with half-lidded eyes. Stiles pushes himself, like _really_ exerts himself to see if he can somehow make his eyes change colour. It takes a moment, and Derek actually starts furrowing his brow like he thinks Stiles is in pain. But then it must happen, and Stiles actually _feels_ it this time. Like his eyes strengthen, and he can see everything around him more clearly. His peripheral is sharper and Derek comes more into focus.

Totally. Awesome.

“How are you doing that?” Derek asks, bewildered.

“Focused.” And that’s all Stiles can manage.

“Do it again.” Derek orders, but it’s kind of breathless and _hot_ and all Stiles can do is obey. He focuses again until it happens and Derek’s whole face changes and his teeth extend. Okay, so, that’s one of Derek’s _things_ then. Nice, noted. Mental note taken. Keep that one for later.

Then Derek’s hands are on him and life is good. The pack are forgotten, for the most part, but Stiles actually tries to keep it quiet for a while. Until Derek starts biting again and the thought flies out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will probably be a long one so it'll take some time. Thank you to everyone for your lovely comments so far, can't wait to conclude this story and tie up all the loose ends! <3


	10. Un Nouveau Départ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Story Title Translation:** Vœux - Vows
> 
> **Chapter Title Translation:** Un Nouveau Départ - A New Start
> 
> **Note:** This chapter is an absolute monster compared to the others. So kick back, grab a cup of coffee, and enjoy!

**_THEN_ **

****

As stated before – numerous times, especially to Stiles who apparently _can’t follow basic directions_ – Derek is a patient person. He always has been. After suffering through the absolute chaos that was his past, he ended up coming out better for it. In some ways, at least. Strength, determination, leadership… the list went on. But when it came to dealing with people, _normal_ people, Derek was at a loss. And it hadn’t really mattered until his uncle raked his way back into his life with claws and teeth and just a hint of _I’m your uncle and I know you better than you know yourself._

Then he’d bitten a clueless Scott McCall and Derek’s life had spiralled out of control.

Scott hadn’t been so forgiving. He’d been blessed with a gift that he never asked for, but as it turned out he never wanted it in the first place. That raw ache for a less than average life in a subpar town made Derek’s skin crawl. He couldn’t stand living in Beacon Hills. There was a reason he’d left with Laura forever ago, scowling off into the night and leaving all of their belongings behind. Their family, too, but they were gone and they weren’t coming back. And the only solace had been New York. And it had been peaceful for a little while, before Laura was fidgeting and writhing inside the walls of their apartment.

And Derek let her go back.

And then she was dead, and Derek ended up back where he started. Back in that hell hole of a town, alone.

Scott’s new presence wasn’t something Derek had exactly welcomed with open arms. And his hyperactive, too-loyal-for-his-own-good best friend had gotten Derek arrested for his own sister’s murder. Derek had stared the kid down from the back of a squad car, nothing but thin metal caging between them. Stiles had stood his ground at first, but eventually started squirming in his seat and hopped out of the car and straight into his father’s arms. The Sheriff had been less than forgiving, and Derek had heard the entire conversation.

He was let out of prison once the evidence had fizzled away into nothing. And he’d been thrown into a life that he never, ever asked for. He was starting to understand Scott’s reluctance.

And that stupid, reckless and overbearing little kid saved Derek’s life. He’d been ready to cut off Derek’s arm. He’d pushed and shoved his way into Derek’s life, flailing his arms and asserting his blind devotion, until all Derek could really do was allow it. Scott’s best friend, for some reason he couldn’t understand, had gotten under his skin in such a short time. And Scott wasn’t too happy about it either, wishing he couldn’t see the curious glances exchanged between them whenever they were all together. They’d fight and bicker and Derek would slam Stiles’ head against a steering wheel. They’d argue and shout and swear at each other whenever they were in the vicinity of one another, and Scott would defend his friend, and it _irked_ Derek.

When Erica and Isaac were turned, Derek knew things were getting a little too high profile. He had to make sure what they were doing remained quiet. Scott was off the radar, choosing to live his somewhat normal life with his newly acquired girlfriend. Derek knew it wouldn’t last. The gift was as much of a curse as it was anything else. And no one ever stayed once they knew the truth.

Or they’d end up betraying them. Derek knew it all too well.

His only concern was Stiles. His father was the Sheriff, and if there was a last person Derek wanted knowing their secret, it was the him. Scott really couldn’t have picked a worse person to claim as his ally. So, Derek had snuck into Stiles’ bedroom and thrown him against the nearest hard surface, intent on strangling the life out of him until he swore his loyalty.

And then… well, the rest is history.

Everything changed after that. Everything. Everything Derek had fought for, clawed and scraped and howled for, suddenly had meaning. And he suddenly had a purpose. A real one, one that encircled his entire pack and held them close. Protecting Stiles, his mate. From anything.

His mate, however, had different plans. Stiles was difficult – a fact Derek had known from the beginning – and he didn’t take orders very well. It wasn’t like Derek had read before. He’d assumed Stiles would be helpless against him, next to him, and follow his orders without a blink of an eye because he was compelled to. But it wasn’t like that. Stiles actually fought back, a lot. He wouldn’t take no for an answer when there wasn’t anything else Derek could offer. And when he and his pack were backed into a corner, Stiles was more than willing to sacrifice his own limbs to save their skin.

And Derek figured, after the initial shock and horror had worn off at Stiles’ apparent disregard for his own safety, it was _better_ than he’d read. It was better than what Peter told him it would be. And it probably had to do with Stiles being human.

“Humans aren’t usually mating material.” Peter said, pushing himself away from the tree trunk he’d decided to lean back against. “It’s unheard of. But I guess anything is possible.”

“Unheard of?” Derek asked, standing with his arms crossed in the middle of the clearing. He’d been with Stiles the night before. Snuck into his room in the middle of the night and slept beside him, enjoying the natural way Stiles’ body curled around him like it was designed to fit there. “You told me a werewolf couldn’t mate with a human.”

“I also told you Santa Claus was real when you were a kid.”

“That’s not funny.” Derek snapped back. “I was just a kid.”

“So is Stiles.” Peter told him, like it was obvious. Like age hadn’t become merely an insignificant number in between them. “You seem to have forgotten that.”

“He’s turning eighteen in the fall.” Derek defended. He looked back towards the rotting mess of his old home, wishing he could do something to reinstate its former glory. “And he knows what he’s gotten himself into. You all do.”

“Do you remember what it was like to be eighteen, Derek?” Peter asked, also turning his gaze towards their old home. A distant memory, and one they both wanted to forget. “Imagine that, then add being someone’s mate on top of it. A werewolf’s mate. And an Alpha, at that.”

“So what are you saying?” Derek looked over at his uncle to find his eyes had turned softer.

“Nothing.” Peter said, but there was concern in his voice. “But it might be in your interest to slow things down with him because we both know he’s willing to die for you. And we both don’t want that to be the reality.”

“You don’t?”

“As much as it might come as a shock to you, nephew, I am part of your pack.” Peter snapped back, then ended up sighing and closing his eyes. “And Stiles getting hurt affects all of us. It affects me. I don’t want to see him get hurt, or worse, because he’s stupidly devoted to you and your bond.”

“I’d die for him.” Derek said, like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. Stiles would die for him too, and that was something Derek knew deep in his bones. But he wasn’t settled by the idea, and it was frightening to know how tight of a hold he had on his mate. “I’d sooner die than see him get hurt.”

“And leave him broken beyond repair once you’re gone?” Peter shot back as he opened his eyes to look at the Alpha. The wind rushed around them and blew a few leaves off the ground at their feet. “Being a mate is a big responsibility, nephew. You have to consider that all of your actions have consequences now. Not just for yourself, but for Stiles. He’d follow you to the end of the earth, and he’d fall apart if anything happened to you.”

“Being an _Alpha_ is a big responsibility.”

“You’re not just an Alpha anymore.” Peter rolled his eyes, then looked to the left like he’d heard something. And true enough, Derek heard the familiar sound of tires against the forest floor. His pack were coming. “You’re an Alpha, but you’re also somebody’s mate. And that mate belongs to the pack as much as he belongs to you. So, tread lightly. Especially if you’re planning on taking anything head on.”

Derek gritted his teeth and started making his way to the house. And Peter was right, except his uncle was becoming something of an annoyance to him as of late. Always injecting words of wisdom and making Derek second guess himself all the time. As much as he hated to admit it, Peter was almost always right. And he was almost always doing it out of selflessness, but sometimes, whenever Derek caught his eye, he could sense something of a personal agenda seeping through.

Derek figured any further conversation could wait when a familiar jeep cruised to a stop just short of the house. Out spilled half of his pack, Scott pulling Allison by her hand, and Erica and Boyd climbing out looking like they’d been suffocating in the back seat. Jackson was sitting in the front, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and looking like he really didn’t want to get out and be there.

Stiles was the last to get out. He closed the door behind him and looked at Derek firmly. Derek watched as his mate stepped forward and closed the distance between them.

“Next time you want to hold a pack meeting, I’m _so_ not being the one to herd them into the car.” Stiles said sarcastically, but Derek could feel that his heart wasn’t really in it. The Alpha’s arms wrapped around Stiles’ waist and he inhaled deeply, welcoming the soothing aura that encompassed him after. “Seriously. With Scott and Allison flirting in the back and Jackson huffing in the passenger seat? I’m not doing that again.”

“Where’s Lydia?” Peter asked, sauntering towards the pack and putting his hand on Boyd’s arm.

“She’s bringing Isaac later. Detention.” Stiles told him, and Derek stiffened. “Relax. He just lost his temper with one of the substitute teachers. I don’t blame him, because that guy can be _such_ a dick sometimes and—”

Whatever the rest of that sentence was going to be, Derek wasn’t about to find out. He kissed Stiles hello, letting him wrap his small arms around his neck. There was a wolf whistle behind them, sounding like Jackson who’d finally decided to get out the car and roll his eyes at them.

“Oh, shut up.” Stiles broke the kiss to shoot a look at the werewolf. Jackson was making a face at him. “When Lydia comes, we can have a fight over who’s the worst at public displays of affection. Something tells me you two will win.”

Jackson scoffed, gesturing with his elbow to Scott and Allison. “Yeah, right. As if they don’t have us beat by a landslide.”

“Hey.” Scott tried to defend himself, but there was definitely truth in Jackson’s words. This time.

Derek huffed at them. He returned his attention to Stiles and nosed gently along his neck, feeling goosebumps form at his touch. It excited him. But now, after what Peter had said, it scared him too. Stiles seemed to sense it but he didn’t voice it, _this_ time. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that Peter had said something to irk Derek, since it was becoming a regular occurrence.

“Come on.” Derek said once he was sure Stiles started swaying at the contact, and held him close. “Let’s get started. Isaac can catch up when he gets here.”

**_NOW_ **

****

Life goes on for a while without any complaints. Well, _some_ complaining is happening but not much. And Stiles has pretty much learned how to control himself when it counts. The last person in the world who he ever imagined helping him is Peter, taking Stiles outside for daily training and absolutely wiping the floor with him. As it turns out, Peter thinks Stiles might have tapped into some kind of spark inside him that makes him capable of things no other human can do.

But after the third time Stiles gets knocked on his ass, he begins to think Peter is full of crap. Derek starts growling. The pack are surrounding them in a tight circle in the clearing behind Derek’s loft. Boyd and Erica are surprisingly quiet, save for a snarl here and there when Erica thinks Peter is pushing too much. Allison has her bow in her hand as if she’s ready to fire as soon as Peter makes it clear he’s lost the plot. Scott is beside her, crouching low to the ground and making fists into the dirt. His eyes are flashing between gold and regular, like he’s aching to step in and defend Stiles.

So, Peter isn’t exactly trusted. And Stiles can really see why. Because, that strength? Insane. And that face? Infuriating.

Derek is quiet too apart from the occasional growl. He’s standing with his feet wide and his arms by his sides a few metres away from the two of them. Miraculously he’d allowed Peter to teach Stiles how to control himself, but it comes with a price. The deal is, if Stiles wants to stop, they stop. No questions asked. And Peter won’t push Stiles any further than he’s willing to go. And he won’t hurt Stiles. And no teeth or claws allowed.

Okay, so there’s maybe a _lot_ of rules. But Derek actually agrees, and Stiles couldn’t be happier about it.

Except when he’s knocked on his ass. _Again._

“Come _on._ ” Peter barks at him, hands at his sides and circling Stiles like some kind of feral cat. “You’re stronger than this.”

“I’m _trying!_ ” Stiles snaps back, scrambling to get back up on his feet. He can feel the tension radiating from Derek from where he stands, panting to death and sweating like an ape in front of Peter. “Ease up a little! I’m a lot smaller than you!”

“That’s irrelevant.” Peter waves a hand dismissively and stops behind Stiles. “And you shouldn’t turn your back on your opponent.”

Stiles whips around instantly, a glare on his face. “You circled me!”

“And you let it happen!” Peter bites back, raising his hand to swat at Stiles. Stiles dodges it, barely, and leaps back, landing in an awkward crouch that makes his ankles ache. He feels like baring the fangs he doesn’t have. “Better.”

“Gee, thanks.” Stiles rolls his eyes and stands up straighter, afraid to let his guard down. He’s pretty sure his shirt is soaked through with sweat and he’s scattered in bruises on his back from where Peter had performed a really nasty twist hold on his arm. Derek had growled loudly at that, and Stiles had to ask the Peter to stop. It angers him a lot that Derek is so affected by it all. “Some direction would be great, you know. Instead of just lunging at me when I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Use your instincts.”

“ _What_ instincts? Because I’m just here trying not to die!”

“ _Exactly._ Use your survival instinct first.” Peter tells him, making a move like he’s about to strike again. “Do what comes naturally to you. Everything else will follow suit.”

“What’s everything else?” Stiles asks, but he doesn’t get a chance to hear the response before Peter is on him again. He manages to dodge and whip himself around the other side of the werewolf, narrowly missing the strike that would have surely severed his jugular. He’s getting the feeling that Peter wouldn’t even hesitate. “Hey!”

Peter lunges for him again and this time Stiles doesn’t see it coming soon enough. He lands on the ground with a sharp ‘ _ack!_ ’. The wind is knocked out of him and he gasps for breath, wriggling under the werewolf trying to get free. Derek is snarling now, feral, eyes flashing a dark and ominous red. It distracts Stiles considerably, but before he knows it Peter is gone and Stiles is left a heaving mess on the ground.

Scott is by his side within a second, pulling at Stiles’ arm to get him to sit up. Stiles chokes and starts coughing when he rises to his feet. He gives Scott an appreciative look, but Scott is looking at him like he’s _sorry._ Like it’s his fault.

“It’s not your fault.” Stiles tells him sincerely, not enjoying how broken and breathless he sounds. “I’m not strong enough.”

“You are, Stiles. You’re as strong as any of us.” Scott corrects him, then looks behind himself at Allison who’s smiling sheepishly at them both and lowering the bow in her hands. She’d obviously been ready to shoot a sweet arrow into Peter’s back a second ago. Stiles thinks he loves her, just a little bit. “Don’t let him get to you like this. It’s a tactic.”

“A tactic?” Stiles asks, wiggling his arm out of his friend’s grasp and looking over at Peter. Derek is in his face and growling, teeth bared. Peter seems impassive, though, not really reacting to it whatsoever. “What do you mean?”

“To break you down. Power is as much physical as it is mental.” Scott taps the side of his head for emphasis. “You just need to believe.”

“ _Really?_ That’s what you’re going with?” Stiles barks out a humourless laugh. Like he can’t fathom the fact that Scott’s big idea is that he can do anything if he just _believes._ Like some corny action movie.

“I know it sounds stupid.” Scott agrees. “But if you let him manipulate you into thinking he’s stronger than you, it’ll be the death of you.”

“You think he’s ready to kill me?”

“No. It’s just a phrase.” Scott laughs but there isn’t any humour in it. “And we wouldn’t let it get that far. I mean, look at them.” Scott gestures with his head towards Derek and Peter. Derek is speaking to his uncle in a low and menacing voice, like he’s warning him about pushing Stiles. He can’t hear it, though, because apparently he didn’t inherit the gift of enhanced hearing. Figures. “Derek won’t allow it. Neither will I. Just… think about what I said.”

So Stiles does. He tries to tell himself he’s stronger than his own limbs would have him believe. And he thinks it actually helps for a while, since he manages to dodge a few of Peter’s strikes and lunges. Then he’s landing on his ass for the fifth time today and he just stays there, sulking into his knees. There’s a shuffle in front of him, and Stiles looks up to see Peter standing his ground and Derek in his face, snarling.

“You’re coddling him.” Is all Peter says. Derek doesn’t seem to like that, because he grabs his uncle by his shirt and _really_ gets in his face this time. Their noses almost touch and Stiles feels anger spark in his chest like he needs to step in and stop them.

“He’s had enough.” Derek growls, low and deep and it resonates in Stiles’ bones. But Peter shakes his head.

“If you’d shake yourself out of the tension you’re feeling, you’d see how strong your mate actually is.” He tells Derek, not seeming perturbed in the slightest by their proximity. Stiles figures it must look incredibly intimidating since Derek can look scary as hell when he wants to. “You’re holding him back.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles can’t help himself from asking from where he sits. Derek glances down at him.

“He’s distracting you.” Peter states.

“I’m not.” Derek bites back. “I’m _protecting_ him. From you.”

“And you don’t have to. I’m not going to hurt him.”

“You already have.” Derek snarls again and this time there’s actually some fear in Peter’s eyes. He grabs at the Alpha’s hand gripping his shirt and his claws come out.

“Scrapes and bruises are expected from training.” Peter manages, his eyes flashing gold between them.

“How is he distracting me?” Stiles asks as he rises to his feet and plants them firmly on the ground, feeling something rumble inside his chest. Peter seems to sense it, looking over at Stiles from where he’s effectively pinned against Derek’s menacing frame.

“He’s worried about you. And it’s affecting you.” Peter tells him.

“With good reason.” Derek says.

“So, you’re telling him not to be worried?” Stiles raises an eyebrow. Seems like an impossible feat at this point.

“If he stops broadcasting his reservations, you will benefit from it.” Peter states matter-of-factly.

“Derek, let him go.” Stiles says, and he _really_ doesn’t enjoy the look of absolute _betrayal_ he gets from Derek. But he stands his ground. “Let him go.”

So Derek does. He drops Peter back onto his feet and Peter pats himself down as if to check if all his limbs are still intact. Because, a threat from an Alpha? Stiles can’t even imagine it. And the way Derek _looks_ at him is tearing him apart. He wants nothing more than to be scooped up in his arms and be whisked away from the situation. Derek looks like he’d rather that too, but Stiles’ gaze hardens.

“I want you to calm down.” Stiles tells the Alpha, looking over at his mate harshly. It hurts Derek in some way if his furrowed brow is anything to go by. But Stiles holds his ground. “And I want you to step back. He’s not going to hurt me.”

“I’m not.” Peter interjects. Derek snarls at him. Eventually, and achingly slowly that it’s almost comical, Derek takes a few steps back until he’s returned to his original position. He keeps his hands clenched at his sides like he’s not willing to let his guard down.

“Hide what you’re feeling.” Peter instructs the Alpha. “Mask your reservations. Don’t let him sense it.”

“You can _do_ that?” Stiles exclaims, looking over at Derek. The Alpha nods solemnly. Huh. So he can hide things from Stiles. That’s just super.

Then the tension relaxes in Stiles’ spine. It’s like a spell, but a bad one. Like he can’t feel Derek at all anymore. A big fat nothing. Just like he’d felt when he woke up in the hospital. Bewildered, he looks at Derek with wide eyes and takes a step towards him. Derek shakes his head, void of all emotion, making Stiles halt in his tracks. He feels his heart hammer in his chest.

“It’s not permanent.” Derek tells him, sounding like he’s disassociated. “I’ve hidden myself from you. It’s not selective. It hides everything.”

“And you…” Stiles croaks, but can’t seem to finish the sentence. That sharp ache in his chest is painful now, sending electric shocks to his fingers and toes.

“Everything is still the same.” Derek explains in the same cold tone. “You just can’t feel it.”

“I—” Stiles blinks his eyes hard, and it kind of looks like Derek breaks in half at the sight. Peter growls and gets Stiles’ attention.

“Forget about it.” Peter orders, making Stiles glare at him. “Focus on me. Use his presence as an anchor and not a reason to distract yourself.”

“It’s kind of hard when I can’t feel him anymore!”

Derek winces. Stiles hates it.

Then Peter lunges at him and he has no choice but to react. He dodges briskly, whipping his body around and readying himself for the next one. Peter sends him crashing to the ground, arms around his waist like a freaking straightjacket, but this time Stiles crawls back to his feet and flashes his eyes over at the werewolf. Peter grins, but it isn’t the nicest thing in the world. All teeth and no humour.

Erica gasps at the sight of it. Stiles knows his eyes must be glowing now. He can feel it somewhere deep inside of him, a raw and bubbling anger swelling in his chest and sending signals to his head. He scans Peter’s movements and dodges easily. That’s all he can do, really. Dodge.

“Hit me!” Peter snarls, striking at Stiles and seemingly getting frustrated when he can’t seem to get his hands on the human. There’s some circling on Stiles’ part, stalking the beta. Peter is swivelling his body around and following his movements. “Hit me already!”

“I can’t!” Stiles yells back, because, hello? Human hands vs werewolf paws? Totally no competition. And Stiles wants to walk away from this with all of his fingers.

Something washes over him then, like that stressful aura is back and tension builds in his shoulders. He hears Derek snarling and glances over at him in raw _relief_. The Alpha has obviously stopped suppressing anything, having gotten too worked up at the scene before him. Stiles feels himself starting to smile before Peter starts growling, angry this time. The beta whips his body around and _charges._

Right at Derek.

Oh. No _._ He. Did. _Not._

Derek’s back collides with the ground and skids across it in a pained heap. Peter is on top of him with his claws wrapped around the Alpha’s neck. Dust from the ground surrounds them like a wind storm.

Something inside of Stiles snaps. He can hear the growling of the pack in his ears but he can’t focus on it. All he can focus on is Derek’s racing heartbeat and the way he’s snarling. Stiles surges forwards without thinking about it.

All he sees is red. There’s nothing else. Just the fuzzy mirage of Peter and Derek’s bodies wrestling on the ground. With a frustrated and loud yell, Stiles grabs onto Peter’s back roughly and fists his hands into the fabric of his shirt. He yanks him off of Derek and throws him.

_Throws_ him. Half way across the clearing.

Half. Way. Across. The. Clearing.

So, Stiles done _that._

Peter lands on the ground far away with a pained groan and doesn’t make a move to get up. A few birds get spooked and fly away from the scene. Erica and Boyd go after him at a ridiculous speed, crouching to the ground at his feet and fussing over him. Stiles’ eyes widen and he snaps them back down to Derek who’s still lying on the ground. He’s looking up at Stiles with wide eyes like he can’t believe what’s just happened.

Stiles can’t believe it either. He feels like he’s about to pass out.

His chest heaves violently and he knows his eyes are glowing. He can see them in the reflection of Derek’s own. Scott is crouching behind him, both of his hands on the back of his arms. It soothes him a little, but not entirely. Scott is saying something into his ear and Stiles is sure he makes out the words _totally badass._ Yeah, totally.

_Not._

What the _hell?_

Stiles ends up fussing over Derek because it seems like the only logical thing to do at this point, but the Alpha seems to come back to himself pretty quickly. He pushes himself off the ground and into a sitting position and he’s suddenly _snuffling_ Stiles’ neck. Stiles doesn’t know how to react to that apart from throwing his arms around his mate and holding on for his freaking _life._

“—so totally _badass_!” Scott’s voice echoes then, like he’s cheering. Allison is next to him jumping up and down with her hands clasped. Her bow swishes from side to side behind her back. “Dude! You totally threw Peter! A _werewolf!_ You threw him over 100 yards!”

“It was amazing!” Allison chirps loudly.

“How did I _do_ that?” Stiles manages, his voice hidden against Derek’s neck. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply at that stupidly amazing scent. Chocolate milkshake and toasted marshmallows. Seriously? A dude as intimidating as Derek smells like a candy store.

“You’re amazing.” Derek tells him, still performing his sniff assault against Stiles’ neck. Like he’s catching a whiff of all the hormones Stiles isn’t even aware he had in the first place.

“Is he okay?” Stiles asks once he’s managed to collect himself and feel his anger fizzle away. He looks over to where Erica and Boyd are now pulling a very dazed looking Peter to his feet.

“He’s fine.” Derek tells him, pulling away and bringing Stiles with him as he rises to his feet.

Peter rolls his neck around and Stiles is sure he hears it crack from where he stands, half wrapped around Derek. He clutches at the Alpha’s arm with both of his own. Derek gives his hand a tight squeeze.

“You were right.” Derek says once his uncle and the others make their way back. Erica is grinning at Stiles like he’s some kind of superhero, but Boyd kind of looks like he’s a bit taken back. Yeah, that’d make two of them.

“I took a chance.” Peter grunts. “You were distracting him and you obviously couldn’t help it. My only choice was to attack you.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Stiles barks back, but in reality he’s actually feeling really guilty about it. As much as Peter angers him and creeps him out, he’s still part of the pack. And you don’t hurt your pack.

Peter seems unfazed, however, shrugging. “I thought you’d feel compelled to defend your mate. I wasn’t wrong.”

“He threw you!” Scott exclaims like he can’t stop saying it. “Halfway across the yard!”

“Yes, Scott. I was there.” Peter glares back at him. Erica slaps Peter on the shoulder and laughs.

“Don’t be so butt hurt.” Erica says and she doesn’t even bother hiding her smile. “You wanted to train Stiles.”

“I didn’t expect him to be that powerful this quickly.”

“Yeah.” Stiles agrees. “You and me both.”

“Maybe the threat to Derek pushed you over the edge.” Allison offers, then looks kind of shy when everyone looks at her. “I’m just saying! You wanted to defend your mate. It’s nice.”

“Nice?” Stiles gapes. “I threw him—”

“You were protecting me.” Derek interrupts. “I would do the same for you.”

Oh. Okay. Well, when he put it like _that_.

“It’s excellent.” Peter adds. “It means you’re strong. And you couldn’t do it before, so I guess something changed. Your bond might have strengthened after everything that’s happened.”

“Strong enough to take you on?” Stiles raises an eyebrow and Derek squeezes his hand in warning. No more fighting today, then.

“Don’t push it. I just didn’t expect you to react so strongly.” Peter snaps back, and Erica starts laughing again. Peter sighs and rolls his eyes. “Next time I’ll be expecting it.”

“ _Next_ time?” Stiles barks. Really? He wants to go again?

“You don’t think you’re training is over because you tossed me to the ground, do you?”

“Well. I guess. I don’t know.” Stiles flails his arms, effectively making Derek do it too with the way their hands are still linked together. Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “This is all really overwhelming!”

“Get used to it. You’re basically one of us now.” Erica tells him.

“She’s right.” Boyd speaks, for the first time today. “You always were one of us. But now you’re something more. Better, stronger, and a real asset.”

“A real _ass-_ et.” Scott confirms. Stiles smacks him.

“The training continues.” Peter says, and Stiles gets the impression that he really doesn’t get a choice on the matter. “Whether you like it or not.”

Well, there you go.

“Come on.” Derek says, tugging at Stiles’ arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I was the one attacked!” Peter barks, but Derek doesn’t seem to be listening, too focused on getting Stiles back upstairs so he can…

…push him against the wall and kiss him? Apparently. Stiles isn’t worried. And he’s not complaining, not at all.

“You were amazing out there.” Derek breathes against his lips, like he can’t stop saying it. Stiles closes his eyes and groans at that. Because it wasn’t amazing, it was terrifying. He manages to break their kiss but not the hold Derek has around his waist, his strong arms like vices against his hip bones.

“So you’ve said.” Stiles breathes, head tilted to the side. He closes his eyes when Derek presses a kiss to his jaw. “I don’t feel amazing.”

“Why not?”

“Because even if I did manage to get Peter off you, he still got to you before I could stop it.” Stiles grits his teeth, which makes Derek pull back and look at him. “I wasn’t fast enough. Derek, if that was a real threat you could’ve—”

“It wasn’t a real threat.” Derek says sincerely, pressing a soft and chaste kiss against Stiles lips before pulling away again. “And I can defend myself.”

“I distract you as much as you distract me.” Stiles argues, but hey, Derek’s lips are on his neck and he can feel his resolve scurrying away. “I need to be stronger.”

“Peter will train you.” Derek presses a kiss against one of his favourite freckles on Stiles’ neck. “I’ll train you.”

“I don’t think I could handle fighting with you.”

“It won’t be a real fight.” Derek tells him, breathing hot against his neck. “You might find it fun.”

“Why do I get the feeling you _want_ to fight me?” Stiles manages, strangled.

“Because I want to feel how strong you are.”

“You saw it.”

“But I didn’t feel it.” Derek retorts, leaning back and smirking. “I could smell it on you. That power. It was amazing.”

Stiles scoffs because how the hell else is he supposed to react to that?

“And you’re mine.” Derek continues. Stiles gulps. “And it excites me.”

“Oh?” Is all Stiles can manage. Because, seriously, the heat is _rising_ in here. Derek is looking at him in a way that makes Stiles feel like crumpling at the knees and falling against him. So he does just that. Derek embraces him tightly in his arms, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“Excuse me.” Allison interrupts them, squeaking from the doorway where the others are letting themselves in. She’s polite enough to announce her presence, at least. Not like the others. Erica actually brushes past Derek on her way inside, followed by a disgruntled looking Peter who’s got Scott in a headlock. His friend flails his arms and grunts in protest.

“Hey!” Scott grumbles. “Let me go!”

“Not until you learn your place.” Peter says back, dragging Scott along like it’s nothing to him. Like he’s not a werewolf who weighs about four tons. Stiles actually ends up laughing and shaking his head. Derek loosens his grip on his waist and lets him go after them.

“Put him down.” Stiles laughs, making his way over to Peter. “Unless you want me to throw you out of the window.”

“Big talk for such a small kid.” Peter narrows his eyes back at Stiles, like he really isn’t enjoying this new transfer of authority between them. Scott squirms under his arm until Peter finally lets go. His friend rubs at his neck and punches Peter in the shoulder.

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re not?” Peter bites back. Stiles shakes his head and pulls at Scott’s sleeve.

“Leave him to sulk in defeat before he bursts a blood vessel.”

“I’m not about to burst a blood vessel!”

“See? Totally teetering on the edge.” Stiles continues and enjoys Scott’s feeble attempt to hold back a snicker. Peter is flaring his nostrils at him now, but it’s just playing. And Stiles likes it. He likes being able to tease Peter like the rest of them. It’s not often he gets to do it, what with Peter being all broody and sulky at the best of times and hiding himself up in the attic.

Peter huffs out a breath and it sounds the closest thing to an _ugh_ that Stiles has ever heard him make. He stomps upstairs without another word.

“So, do you think you’d wanna fight me?” Scott asks, once they’ve all settled and the shock has worn off. Derek is sitting on the dining table with his feet on one of the chairs. Stiles is sitting with Scott on the sofa, with Erica in between his legs on the ground.

“Dude, what’s with everyone wanting to fight me?” Stiles asks, and Erica nudges his knee. “What, you too?”

“Totally.” Erica beams. “I want a shot at kicking your ass.”

“We’ll go easy on you.” Scott says like it’s supposed to make Stiles feel better. Newsflash: it doesn’t.

“I’d sure hope so!” Stiles yelps. Derek laughs across from them and Stiles feels like it’s music to his ears, snapping him out of his hysterics. He feels his palms tingle like he wants to touch the Alpha.

“Tomorrow.” Derek announces from where he’s perched and resting his hands on his knees. “He’s had enough for today. He needs to rest.”

“I do.” Stiles agrees, already feeling his shoulders start to ache. “I threw him pretty good though, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Derek confirms with a smile that’s just dripping with pride. Stiles stares at him with his mouth open.

“Pretty good?” Erica scoffs. “You knocked him out.”

“He did _not_ knock me out!” Peter barks from somewhere above them. Erica rolls her eyes.

“He was winded, then.” Erica corrects, waiting for a protest from the attic that doesn’t come.

This new evolution of power is overwhelming, even by Stiles’ standards. But he figures it’s also a little bit awesome. And if Derek’s reaction to it is anything to go by, he really impressed his mate today. And Stiles takes that as a victory. Especially when they’re alone and Derek kisses him until he’s breathless and clutching at the sheets beneath him.

Yep. Totally awesome.

And that’s how Stiles finds himself the victim of a pack of werewolves the week after, some chomping at his neck and others scraping at his face. He doesn’t beat any of them. He doesn’t even come close. After a while, he actually gives up on trying and just lets himself be dragged along for the ride. Derek is nothing short of amazing when it comes to brawling, that much is sure. And when it comes to fighting Stiles, Derek is nothing but graceful. It had been a shock to the system at first, fighting his own mate and Alpha, but after that Stiles actually enjoys himself. He enjoys the way Derek instructs him to move faster, coaching him until eventually they are a panting mess in the middle of the clearing.

The others are watching. Isaac has an alarmed look on his face at first, before relaxing into it and enjoying himself. He’d been surprisingly absent when Stiles had first realised what he could do, having been stuck in detention for the third time this week. But Stiles isn’t worried, because Isaac is stronger than he thinks. He can overcome whatever is happening to him. And Stiles will be there to help him whenever he asks.

Derek smirks over at Stiles and gestures for him to have another go. The look is as menacing as it is arousing, and Stiles is sure Derek can smell it on him. But, hey, what’s he got to be embarrassed about? They love each other, and they’re _married._ A little arousal is nothing. Okay, a lot of arousal, but seriously, Derek? With that body charging at him? A little distracting.

But Stiles forces himself to push through it, charging at Derek again and again until his cheeks are tinged pink. Derek doesn’t hold back anything except his teeth and claws – an unspoken rule between the pack, _no hurting Stiles_ – because Stiles doesn’t have either of those things. He just has some weirdly acquired kung-fu ability and the strength of the incredible hulk when it matters. Other times, he’s a fumbling mess of gangly limbs and sarcasm.

On the fifth time he charges at Derek, he musters up some courage and tries leaping over him from where the Alpha is crouched low to the ground. Derek’s shocked face is worth it, and Erica starts to cheer him on. It’s all the support Stiles needs, really, as he lands firmly on his feet behind Derek. He spins around and jumps on his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders tight, but not tight enough to choke him. Because Stiles wouldn’t dream of it. Derek huffs out a breath and grabs Stiles’ arms, manoeuvring him easily around until he’s scooped up in the Alpha’s arms like a bride, hands still wrapped around his neck.

“Got you.” Stiles says triumphantly, pressing a kiss to Derek’s nose and smiling. The Alpha smiles back fondly.

“You do.” Derek says, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips. And _ha!_ He beat an Alpha!

Okay, well, maybe Derek _let_ him win a little. But still, brownie points for trying. Also for that shocked look on Derek’s face when he’d leaped over him. And Derek is radiating with pride and Stiles couldn’t be more pleased with himself.

He doesn’t beat Peter again. Sadly. But he does manage to get Erica into a choke hold at some point, which completely enrages the smaller werewolf. It’s nothing short of hilarious.

“Yeah, well!” Erica blurts out, rising to her feet and patting herself down. “If I could use my claws, it’d be a different story.”

“You know the rules.” Derek interjects.

“Yeah, yeah.” Erica dismisses him, eyeing Stiles. “I’m just saying if I didn’t have to hold back so much, Stiles would be done for.”

“What can I say?” Stiles shrugs and grins. “I’m only human. Oh, and I beat you.”

Erica lets out the biggest _ugh_ Stiles has ever heard after that. Boyd starts laughing.

Stiles can’t beat Scott no matter how hard he tries. Scott apparently isn’t willing to let his guard down for a second, firmly intent on keeping his big brother – even though Stiles is _older_ than him! – status. He dodges Stiles’ lunges easily and actually uses the trees to his advantage, climbing them whenever Stiles gets too close. And, _not fair._

“You’re not supposed to be using your claws!” Stiles yells up at his friend, who’s sticking his tongue out.

“Not on _you!_ He didn’t say anything about the trees!”

Stiles looks over to Derek for help, but the Alpha simply shrugs at him. Oh, really? That’s just fine. Stiles huffs.

“Get back down here so I can kick your ass!”

Scott leaps from one of the trees so fast Stiles barely sees him. Then Stiles is pinned to the ground with Scott on top of him, both knees at either side of his hips. And he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. _Ugh._

“Get off, you big cheater.” Stiles grumbles, swatting at his friend until he moves. He takes Scott’s hand and lets himself be hoisted back up to his feet.

“Not cheating. Alpha said so.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Just the facts!” Scott says back, that stupid grin still on his face. It starts looking like Stiles is never going to hear the end of that phrase. He shakes his head and pats himself down. Then Scott _somehow_ convinces him to try climbing a tree. It doesn’t work out very well considering Stiles hits the deck more times than he can count. But at least it’s a cushioned blow, with Scott supporting his falls every time. Derek lets them screw around and focuses his attention on Erica and Boyd, training them properly at the other side of the clearing.

Eventually, Scott must lose patience and hoists Stiles up and onto a high tree branch so he can perch himself there. His friend settles next to him and lets his legs dangle off the edge. They have a pretty good view of the fighting going on from here. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“One day, I won’t need your help.” He says. “And you’ll be the one asking _me_ to help you up here.”

“Maybe.” Scott replies, smirking at him. “But I’ll enjoy this whilst it lasts, if it’s all the same to you.” After a short moment of silence as the two of them watch Erica charge at Boyd, Scott speaks again. “You know, you really are making a lot of progress.”

“Am I?” Stiles asks, enamoured with the way Erica’s body twists and bends easily around the other werewolf.

“Totally. Impressed me, at least.” Scott tells him. “And considering where you were a few months ago… well, yeah. You’ve come a long way.”

“A few months ago I didn’t even know who I was.”

“I know. That’s what I’m saying.” Scott says, looking at Stiles with a smile. “How are things going?”

“With what?” Stiles asks stupidly, and Scott gives him a look. “Things are. Things are good, Scott. I mean, once the initial _what the hell_ wore off, well. Things are good.”

“Just good?”

“Things are great.” Stiles sighs at his friend, momentarily distracted by the sound of Derek being thrown into a tree trunk down below by a very pleased looking Peter. “Sometimes I feel like I never left. Other times I feel like I’m just a stranger.”

“You’ll never be a stranger.” Scott tells him honestly as he turns his gaze to watch Derek get his own back, hurling Peter to the ground. “You’ll always be my best friend.”

“Not your brother?” Stiles quips. Scott elbows him.

“And my brother.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not planning to get another case of amnesia.” Stiles says. “At least, not any time soon.”

Scott elbows him in the ribs again, and Stiles yelps. But his friend starts laughing and Stiles just shakes his head. He manoeuvres his feet and makes a move to leap down. There’s a lot of shuffling ahead as Erica takes on Derek, with her claws out and teeth bared. Derek is dodging her easily, whipping his body around in a circle until the beta is winded. Stiles feels himself watching in awe, not really paying attention to where he lands back on the ground.

Then he collides with something. Some _one._

There’s a distinct crack, then a deep growl, and Stiles stares down in bewilderment.

“Stiles?!”

“ _Jackson?_ ” Stiles yelps. He’s sitting on top of the werewolf, legs in a crumpled mess at his sides. Jackson looks less than pleased about it, his face contorted in confusion.

“What the _hell?_ ” Jackson barks up at him, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. “Since when did you get the bite? What the hell did I miss?”

“He doesn’t have the bite.” Scott chirps from above. The smaller beta hops down off the branch with ease and lands steadily on his feet. He looks at Stiles pointedly until he gets with the program and flails, stumbling to his feet and hopping off of a very dazed Jackson.

“Looks that way from I’m lying on the _ground!_ ” Jackson barks back, furious. He jumps to his feet and bares his teeth at Stiles, whose first instinct is to hide behind the first thing he sees. Which just so happens to be Scott’s back.

“I heard you coming.” Derek announces, making his presence known. Somehow, miraculously, the Alpha is now standing by Scott’s side. He glances behind at Stiles, who takes it as an invitation to hide behind Derek instead. “And he doesn’t have the bite.”

“He _landed_ on me!” Jackson barks, motioning that he’s about to whack Stiles senseless, before dropping his arms to his sides and huffing. “If he doesn’t have the bite, why does he smell like that?”

“Hey!” Stiles protests, poking his head over Derek’s shoulder.

“Just the f—”

“If you say ‘just the facts’ to me, Jackson, I swear to _god._ ” Stiles snaps back, moving around Derek to stand beside him with a glare. Scott snickers from the Alpha’s other side. “I don’t have the bite!”

“You wanna explain?” Jackson peers up at Derek, who’s raising an eyebrow.

“When did you get back?” Derek asks, completely ignoring Jackson’s question. Jackson huffs.

“Weeks ago.”

“And you didn’t bless us with that pretty face until now because..?” Stiles asks.

Jackson’s face contorts in response. “I was dealing.”

“With?” Derek prompts.

“Lydia.” Jackson says, resigned. Scott huffs out a dark laugh and Stiles starts to feel uneasy. Derek tenses beside him.

“Where is she?” Derek asks with a glower.

“Not here, obviously.” Jackson snaps back, then pats himself down like he’s trying to get every ounce of Stiles’ touch off of him. Stiles shoots him a look. “She’s at home. She won’t even open the door to me.”

“Well, you did kind of run off with some guy you met without even a second glance.” Scott interjects, but Stiles gets the feeling his heart isn’t really in it. What’s going on here?

“Because I was sick of all of you.” Jackson snarls back, and Stiles opens his mouth to protest but Derek beats him to it.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re back.”

“Because I’m tired of this _feeling_ I get when I’m not here.” Jackson barks. Erica and Isaac approach them from behind, but Boyd and Peter stay put at the tree line. Probably don’t want to be in the middle of the drama. Understandable. “Like I’m missing something inside of myself. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“What, like literally in your ass?” Erica chirps in, standing by Stiles’ side. Her arms are folded across her chest. “That’s rough.”

“No, in my head, you stupid—”

“Hey, it’s hard to make the distinction between them sometimes.” Erica snaps back, and Scott bursts out laughing. Stiles feels himself snigger too, but Jackson looks like he’s about to snap all of their necks and scurry away.

“Case in point. I was sick of all of you.” Jackson says, resigned. “But I’m back. For good. Whether you like it or not.”

Everyone seems to look at Derek then. Even Stiles. Because at the end of the day, no matter the pack’s opinion, the Alpha has ruling over them. Derek observes Jackson for a long and agonizing moment, with Stiles twitching beside him. Erica actually has to take a hold of his arm to stop him from flailing in discomfort. Eventually, however, Derek puts out his hand for Jackson to shake.

“You were always part of the pack.” Derek tells him once Jackson shakes. “It doesn’t matter if you run from it. You don’t have a choice.”

“Thanks, I think.” Jackson says sarcastically, dropping his hand to his side and looking over at Stiles. “So, what gives? You come back from your amnesia trip and just magically become one of us?”

“How did you know about that?” Stiles asks, shocked that Jackson had even known about the accident in the first place. Scott clears his throat and starts looking incredibly guilty, and Stiles starts to narrow his eyes. Betrayal.

“I told him. I’ve known he’s been back for a while now.” Scott informs them, then puts up his hands in defence once Stiles looks like he’s about to wring his neck. “I told Derek!”

Stiles looks up the Alpha before him with a scowl on his face. Derek doesn’t look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on Jackson. “I knew Jackson was back. I wanted him to make the decision to come back on his own.”

“You knew I’d come back?” Jackson asks with a raised brow. Derek nods.

“Eventually.”

“When were you going to tell me this?” Stiles waves his hand between Derek and Scott, also known as, the two big fat _liars._

“When Jackson came back.” Derek tells him, looking down at him with a soft smile that Stiles automatically returns before he catches himself and the scowl settles back over his features. Nope. No mate tactics today.

“Oh really.” Stiles says flatly.

“Oh, lighten up, Stilinski.” Jackson dismisses Stiles’ look of betrayal with a wave of his hand. “What happened to you?”

“I lost my memories—”

“Yeah, I got that part.”

“Well if you’d let me _finish._ ” Stiles snaps back. “And I don’t. Really know.”

“Helpful.” Jackson rolls his eyes.

“He tapped into some instinct. A mate thing, we think.” Isaac says, making himself known from behind them. The others whip their heads around to look at him. “Uh. And now he’s got some abilities. Also, welcome back, man.”

“Thanks.” Jackson replies, looking like he’s happy to see at least someone from the pack. He returns his attention back to Derek. “What kind of abilities did you give him?”

“I didn’t give him anything.” Derek retorts, but Peter is quick to step in, making his way forward with a determined look on his face.

“Derek bit Stiles. A lot.” Peter announces, and the face Jackson makes is priceless. “We think he transferred some of his power. And Stiles can do things.”

“Not cool, dude.” Stiles says, smacking Peter’s chest with the back of his hand. Yeah, because his sex life is something he wants everyone to know about. Peter gives him such a death glare that Stiles takes a step back and collides with Derek. The Alpha huffs and takes Stiles’ hand and pulls him away from his uncle.

“Show him, Stiles.” Derek orders, and Stiles wishes he doesn’t know what he means. But he does. And it’s not even a show, really. It’s nothing special. Just something he can do. Change his own eye colour. Nope, not special at all.

It takes a second but eventually his eyes glow bright and red. Jackson falters instantly, his top lip twitching like he’s about to bare his teeth. Derek bares his own in response to warn the beta off. Stiles couldn’t be more thankful.

“I’ve never seen a human do that before.” Jackson says, intrigued. “What else can you do?”

“I can kick your ass.” Stiles retorts. Derek stiffens beside him like he really doesn’t want it to come to that.

“Oh, really?” Jackson raises an eyebrow like he’s the farthest thing from convinced that he could ever be.

“Yeah, he threw Peter across the clearing last week.” Erica chirps in in Stiles’ defence. Peter glowers at her evilly.

And then Stiles has another werewolf on his case. Jackson is a worthy opponent, much to Stiles’ dismay. All growls and teeth and lunges. Not fun. That’s until Jackson finds out Stiles is only stronger than him when Derek is in danger. Surprisingly, Jackson isn’t willing to start a fight with the Alpha who’s just accepted him back. So Stiles calls that a victory.

And now the pack is almost back together. Save for one person.

“Remind me how the hell I let you talk me into this again?”

“I didn’t.” Derek tells Stiles with a furrowed brow as he shrugs into his leather jacket. “It was your idea.”

Stiles huffs. “Yeah, _my_ idea. Meaning _I_ would be the one going.”

Derek falters as he reaches for his keys. Scott is shuffling near the front door of the loft like he’s nervous. He’d agreed to come with Derek on their trip. A trip graciously labelled _How to Win Back A Prom Queen In 3 Easy Steps_ by Stiles. But Derek doesn’t think it’ll be that easy.

“It’s better if you stay here with the others.” Derek informs his mate, not really enjoying the way Stiles huffs back at him. But he doesn’t exactly want Stiles in a room alone with Lydia right now. Even if there isn’t anything between them, Derek would rather see it for himself before going any further. “It won’t take long.”

“You say that like Jackson won’t be a total _asshole_ the entire time.” Stiles rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall with the hole in it. Derek can still envision pushing him against it the day he’d came back. It’s something he won’t forget.

“Maybe.”

“Try _definitely._ ” Stiles raises an eyebrow, then looks over at Scott. “You’re cool with this?”

“I have to go with him, Stiles.” Scott tells him with wide eyes. Allison is standing in the doorway fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “I owe Derek that. And Allison is Lydia’s best friend, so she’s coming too.”

“At the very least, her parents will let me inside without second guessing themselves.” Allison says. “Three boys, on the other hand, well…”

“You’d be surprised how often her parents aren’t home.” Jackson puts in his two cents, much to the dismay of Stiles who looks like he’s about to start growling.

“Thanks for that totally necessary information.” Stiles yelps. Derek starts shaking his head.

“I’ll get you at the car.” Derek instructs the others, watching as Scott and Allison leave the loft but Jackson hovers. “No, you’re not driving.”

“Some things never change.” Jackson scoffs, before disappearing out of the loft too.

Derek returns his attention back to Stiles who’s still standing his ground, looking less than happy about it. It’s not an ideal arrangement, and Derek isn’t really looking forward to being in such close proximity to Jackson for a few hours, but needs must. And this time, needs definitely must.

“Stiles.” Derek attempts to get his mate’s attention but he seems to be content on staring at the ground. “Or if the floor has something more important to say, I can wait.”

“You’re a dick.” Stiles mumbles.

“Maybe.”

Stiles sighs and pushes himself away from the wall and finally meets Derek’s eyes. “Be careful. I’m totally not okay with this, just so you’re aware, but I guess you’re going to do it anyway. You’ve totally lost your mate privileges.”

“I wasn’t aware it was possible to lose them.” Derek says, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll be fine. We will be fine.”

“Fine.” Stiles snaps, turning his back on Derek and sauntering off towards where Isaac is sitting at the dining table looking like a startled deer. “But if your car pulls up and Lydia isn’t in the back of it, there will be consequences.”

“Consequences?” Derek sighs from where he stands, fidgeting with the car keys in his hand.

“Severe consequences.” Stiles huffs as he takes a seat next to Isaac and nudges him with his elbow. Isaac offers him a small and uncomfortable smile like he can’t handle the conflict. “Like you sleeping on the sofa.”

“Deal.” Derek confirms, not even pretending he’s a little hurt by it. He leaves the loft without another word, enjoying the way Stiles’ heart rate speeds up when he does.

Consequences Derek can live with, for now. But he’s not about to come back empty handed.

There’s a lot of snarling in the car. Mostly on Derek’s part, because Jackson is completely unbearable at the best of times. But when he’s nervous, it’s absolutely intolerable. Scott squirms awkwardly in the passenger seat, having elected that he sit there to save Derek the bother. It’s fruitless, however, considering Jackson is doing a pretty good job at annoying Derek from the back seat. Allison turns out to be the saving grace in the end, snapping at Jackson to get a _grip_ and save it all for Lydia.

The car is silent after that. Derek couldn’t be more pleased about it. He glances at Allison in the rear view mirror to provide his thanks. She simply rolls her eyes and looks out the window.

When they pull up to Lydia’s house, though, Jackson is the one who starts squirming.

“This is such a bad idea.” Jackson murmurs under his breath, squinting up at the house from where he sits. Derek looks over too, thinking back to the cars parked outside the night of the party. The last time he was here. A night he wishes he could forget.

Scott seems to be thinking the same thing because he puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder and says, “Show time.”

For once, Scott couldn’t be more right.

They drop Allison off first, and she sashays out the car and makes her way to the front door, waving them off. Derek parks the car a block away to keep Lydia’s suspicion to a minimum. Allison gets inside the house without any complaints, let in by Lydia’s mother. She sounds worried from what Derek can hear, wondering where Allison has been. Derek huffs out a breath as he steps out the car, listening carefully to the conversation.

Jackson is listening too, wincing occasionally when Lydia’s mother makes a jab at him. Scott is shaking his head almost constantly by the time they reach the side of the house. There’s a large window on the second floor with light purple curtains on the other side. Lydia’s bedroom. Jackson should know it all too well.

“She’s in.” Derek announces, letting Scott crouch down next to him with a firm nod.

“Allison knows what she’s doing, we just need to be patient.” Scott tells them.

Jackson doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t voice it, settling for leaning against the side of the house and closing his eyes. Derek concentrates on the scene above them, listening for their opportunity.

“Allison?” Lydia sounds surprised as she opens her bedroom door. “What are you doing here?”

“Your mum let me in.” Allison says, stepping inside and letting Lydia close the door behind her. “Hope it’s okay.”

“I suppose it is.” Lydia replies, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “But I can’t help suspect you have an ulterior motive for being here as opposed to just checking in.”

“You could say that.” Allison tells her with a small, knowing smile. Lydia starts to scowl.

“So? Let’s hear it.”

“It’s about Stiles.” Allison reports, making Derek wince from where he’s crouched outside. Scott shoots him a look like _get over it._ Derek is so close to snapping his arm in half.

“What about him?” Lydia asks, making her way to her bed and sitting on the edge of it, staring down at the flower print on the sheets. “Did he get his memories back?”

“No.” Allison says, sitting down next to her. “Not really. He has flashes sometimes, but the memories are still gone.”

“Flashes?” Lydia looks at her. Allison falters.

“Visions, to be more precise.” She tells her, glancing towards the window like she’s heard Jackson grunt from outside. Derek grabs him by the collar in warning, forcing his silence. “Just bits and pieces. Nothing concrete.”

“How’s Derek taking it?” Lydia asks, and suddenly her voice sounds really small for such a frightening woman. “I haven’t seen him since the catastrophe that was the party.”

“Stiles is back with him now.” Allison tells her, and watches as Lydia’s face lights up a bit. “They’re back together. All of us, actually. We’re all back together.”

“Took them long enough.”

“You’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Lydia asks, suspicious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I thought you—I thought you liked Stiles.” Allison stumbles over her own words. Derek and Jackson both exchange a look. “Scott said—”

“After all this time, you start listening to Scott?” Lydia scoffs, making Scott’s upper lip twitch from outside. “Of course I like Stiles. He’s like an annoying kid brother I never wanted.”

“Not like that.” Allison says immediately. “I thought you _liked_ him.”

“What? No.” Lydia tells her, frowning. “I mean, I thought about it, sure. Because Jackson decided to gallop off into the night the second the going got tough.”

Jackson winces where he stands, and Derek feels compelled to let go of the grip he has on the beta’s collar.

“And he was just there, smiling at me like I was his everything.” Lydia continues, eyeing Allison suspiciously. “You really came all the way over here to talk to me about boys?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, you better get to the point quick because you’re already overstaying your welcome.”

“Lydia, I know things haven’t been good between us since, you know.” Allison struggles.

“Since you attacked our Alpha, you mean?” Lydia snaps back, sounding like she’s more angry than she’s letting on. Allison sighs and closes her eyes. Derek feels a stab inside his chest, like he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling he gets hearing Lydia defend him.

“It’s in the past. I’ve made my peace. And I’m reinstated in the pack.”

“You want to tell me what else has been going on since you all decided to leave me behind?”

“We didn’t leave you behind.” Allison says firmly and so honestly that Lydia actually starts to hesitate. “Things are better now. We have Stiles and Jackson back, and I’m back too. It’s only you that’s left.”

“And I’m the afterthought?” Lydia quips, and Allison opens her mouth to prove her wrong, but she interrupts her. “Figures you’d take Jackson back before consulting me.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Allison assures her. “He just turned up out of the blue.”

“I know, he was here a few times.” Lydia says. “I sent him away.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t get to decide he wants me back after everything he did, Allison.” Lydia sounds firm. “He thinks just because he’s a werewolf now that he has some kind of hold over me. Well, honey, he’s wrong.”

“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Jackson hisses from below, and Derek is forced to shush him with a hand over his mouth.

“Wait.” Scott instructs the beta, rising to his feet and squinting up at the window.

“Sounds like I have.” Lydia replies, glancing over at the window curiously. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” Allison says quickly, but it’s already too late. Lydia has caught on to what’s happening. The red-head rises to her feet with a glower. Allison clears her throat, loudly. An instruction.

“Go.” Derek says, and Scott nods, climbing up the side of the house with ease. He holds onto the window ledge and unlocks the window, his feet swaying against the side of the house before he climbs inside and lands less than gracefully inside Lydia’s room. Lydia yelps a little – something she’ll probably deny later – and starts cussing.

“What the hell, Allison?”

“You go next.” Jackson tells Derek, eyeing him carefully. “I’ll go after you.”

“Fine.” Derek says, climbing up the side of the house and hopping easily in the window with a lot more grace than the beta before him did. He wrinkles his nose when he stands up straighter, watching Lydia’s face contort in confusion.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lydia yells, looking over at Allison like she’s betrayed her. “You arranged some kind of dog therapy group in my bedroom!”

“It’s for your own good.” Allison says back, making a move to stand and taking a hold of Scott’s arm. Scott is standing out like a sore thumb in Lydia’s petite bedroom, but it’s nothing compared to Derek. Derek looks like he really doesn’t belong there.

“I suppose this is your doing?” Lydia barks at him, prompting Derek to shoot her a look.

“Not entirely.” He says, not exactly about to implicate Stiles in all of this. There’s a couple of sounds coming from the side of the house, sparking Lydia’s attention. Then Jackson is climbing through the window like he has a million times before. He lands on his feet easily and Derek can feel the second his heart rate settles when he lays eyes on Lydia.

“You too?” Lydia starts shouting obscenities, mostly along the lines of _you stupid dog_ in multiple variations. By the time she’s finished, Jackson is looking pale. Scott looks like he’s just heard his own mother swear for the first time. But this isn’t Derek’s first rodeo.

“I realise—” Derek starts, but Lydia interrupts him harshly.

“Do I look like I want an audience for this?”

“You need one.” Allison says from where she’s conveniently protected by Scott plastered to her side. “Otherwise, this wouldn’t be necessary.”

“So, you thought you’d let yourself into my own home and invite your merry pack of mutts into my bedroom?” Lydia snaps back. Scott starts looking uneasy, like this hadn’t been how he’d imagined it in his head. Derek knows better – he knows Lydia can be unpredictable. Lydia is smart, and calm and calculated, and that’s why Derek likes her. She’s an asset, but she’s also incredibly kind when she wants to be. A valued pack member, regardless of her humanity. He intends on keeping it that way.

Jackson is uncharacteristically quiet. Derek decides to step in and assert himself, growing tired of the shouting match between them all.

“I want you to come back with us.” He says, silencing Lydia’s protests with a wave of his hand. The woman clamps her mouth shut and clenches her fists at her sides. “If I can have your word that we won’t have any problems.”

“Problems with what?” Lydia manages through gritted teeth. Jackson grunts next to the window from where he’s too afraid to take another step into the room.

“Stiles.”

“This is about _Stiles?_ I can’t believe this!”

“I told you it was about Stiles.” Allison adds absently.

“I don’t want Stiles!” Lydia throws her arms above her head like she’s begging someone to come and save her. “I never wanted him! I told Allison I thought about it, and that’s it! He was hurt and I could see that, I felt sorry for him! I thought it would make him feel better with a little attention! Because god knows he wasn’t getting it from you!”

“Lydia, stop.” Scott steps in and stares the woman down. Lydia puts her arms down slowly like she’s just realised what she’s said.

“I didn’t mean that.” She says, looking up at Derek. “I just meant I could see how hurt he was by everything. He was _pining_ for you and he didn’t even know it. It was a bad idea, in hindsight, I know that now. But at the time, I didn’t have many options with the rest of you lying to him.”

“It’s my fault for lying.” Scott admits. “I wanted to get him back. I was wrong, since he found out the truth anyway.”

“And we’re better for it.” Derek adds, glancing back to Jackson who still looks as still as a statue. “Any time you want to join the conversation, I’m sure she’d like to hear it.”

There’s a tense moment of silence and Jackson’s anxiety fills the room and makes the air feel thicker. Derek doesn’t like it. He’s used to Jackson being a ball of rage and regret, but this? This is worse.

“I’m sorry.” Jackson says quietly, making Derek take a step back towards Scott and Allison, knowing that it’s not his fight anymore. Lydia had made it clear where she stands with Stiles, and Derek heard the truth in her heart. He has nothing to worry about, and anything that happened seems to be his fault. As always.

“You’re sorry.” Lydia repeats in disbelief.

“I am.” Jackson tells her as he takes a step forward but Lydia puts her hand out to stop him coming any closer. “Lydia, I was an idiot.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“If I could take it back, I would. But I can’t.” Jackson tells her. “You have to believe me.” When Lydia doesn’t say anything, Jackson looks to Derek for support, but the Alpha simply nods in encouragement. “I don’t expect you to take me back. I’m just asking you to consider it.”

“You’re right, I’m not going to take you back.” Lydia says firmly, but Derek can sense her hesitation. She’s quiet for a long moment and Jackson allows it. Scott looks down at Allison and gives her a small tug like he’s trying to confirm she’s still there. Derek feels a pang in his chest that aches for Stiles, wondering if he’s still angry about being excluded.

“Okay.” Lydia says finally, after a long and silent two minutes of deliberation where the wolves simply wait with baited breath. “Okay, I’ll come back. I’ll come back with you.”

She doesn’t look at Jackson when she says it, instead peering over at Derek. Derek straightens his back and takes a step forward. Lydia puts out her hand and he takes it gently, shaking on it.

“But I’m not taking Jackson back.”

Jackson grunts, looking down at his feet.

“It’s enough.” Derek tells her, and Lydia offers him a small and wavering smile.

The pack is back. Stiles will be pleased.

**_THEN_ **

****

So as much as this wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to him – being kidnapped and tortured being _pretty high up there_ – it definitely fell somewhere in Stiles’ top five worst moments of his life. Except this time the death of him was definitely going to be his dad. Or Derek. One of the two, Stiles couldn’t decide. He figured death would find him sooner or later, but he was really hoping for later. He couldn’t exactly decide to peace out now and take to the hills.

Nah, this was a long time coming and he really had to psyche himself up and be done with it.

“Stop being so nervous.” His dad’s voice interrupted him from his existential crisis and brought his attention to the sorry excuse for a thumbnail he had left from chewing it. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Oh, _I’m sorry_.” Stiles said sarcastically, flailing on the sofa. “Is my nervousness distracting you from the horrible reality that is _this situation?_ ”

“How much Adderall did you have today?” His dad asked, seemingly content in making his one and only son freak out even _more._

“A few. Some. A little.” Stiles managed. “Not a lot.”

“Might want to re-consider that.” His dad told him, gesturing with his head towards the front door. He took a sip of his tea with narrowed eyes as Stiles whipped his head around and spied the familiar white ray of headlights coming through the front windows. He was on his feet before he even registered it, and stumbled over the rug on his way into the hall.

“The doorbell hasn’t even went yet!” His dad barked at him, but Stiles pretended not to hear it.

“I’ll get it!” Stiles yelped, hammering it towards the front door and slipping outside without another word. Derek was dressed in smart jeans and a tight fitting shirt, no tie. Someone please kill Stiles now.

“You okay?” Derek asked when he exited the car and took one look at Stiles. And duh, _stupid question._ “Don’t answer that.”

“How can you be okay!” Stiles exclaimed as he watched Derek circle his car as cool as a cucumber. Meanwhile, Stiles was over here having a meltdown. “Why are you not panicked?”

“Because I’ve met your father before.” Derek offers, then continues with silence that drove Stiles insane.

“Under different circumstances!” Stiles flailed his arms like a maniac because, let’s face it, he was starting to feel like one. Derek sighed when one of Stiles’ arms accidentally collided with his chest, which he ended up snatching back as soon as it made contact. “Sorry! I’m just!”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Derek told him as he reached up to steady Stiles’ arms. “This isn’t exactly a situation I wanted to be in this quickly.”

“Ha!” Stiles barked back at him, but the panic in his eyes was surely giving him away. “You’re freaking out!”

“I’m not.”

“Well, _join me_ , please? Would you?”

“When you two are finished bickering in the driveway,” Stiles’ dad’s voice sounded from the front door, from where he’d managed to poke his head out of it without either of them noticing, “I’ll be in here. I’ll leave the door open.”

Stiles’ eyes must have turned into saucers by that point if Derek’s expression was anything to go by. The Alpha let go of Stiles’ arms immediately and gestured towards the house. “Better not keep him waiting.”

“You are just _so—_ ”

“What? I’m just what, Stiles?” Derek snapped. “Trying to make a good impression on your father?”

“No—”

“Because if this doesn’t go well, I don’t know what to do.” Derek continued in the same harsh tone, low and threatening. Stiles felt himself faltering. “I can’t stay away from you.”

And, when he put it like that, Stiles knew he was screwed. Royally.

The second they’re in the house is a travesty in itself. Stiles watched as his dad and Derek shook hands in greeting, like they’d never met each other before. Except they _had._ When Derek was a suspect for _murder_. And Stiles was just about to shoot through the roof and into his own bedroom just to get away. They sat in the living room after that, so excruciatingly quietly that he felt like he was really about to burst a blood vessel. Derek sat across from him on the sofa as far away as possible, basically sitting on the arm rest. The Alpha’s face was flat but guarded, as was the Sheriff’s.

Oh, my god. Worst Friday night ever.

“So, Derek.” His dad began, cracking his knuckles against his knees. “Tell me about yourself.”

Oh, _god._

“ _Dad._ ” Stiles protested, but his dad just shot him a look.

“Stiles.” Derek said firmly, prompting Stiles to fizzle away into nothing in his seat. “Not much to tell, really. I was born here, lived here until I was sixteen, then moved to New York with my sister, Laura. Once she passed away, I came back here.”

“Once she was murdered.” The Sheriff corrected, and Stiles didn’t miss the way Derek’s eyebrow twitched in response.

“ _Dad._ ” Stiles protested. “Seriously? His dead sister? That’s what you’re going with?”

“He was a suspect, and I’m a cop.” His dad told him like it was nothing, like he hadn’t totally accused Derek of murder. “Keep going, Derek, please.”

“Now I’m here for good. I’m still living in my old family house.” Derek said flatly, like he was aching to run away as much as Stiles was. He managed to put on a better show, though. Damnit. “But I have plans to move, eventually.”

“Move where?”

“Further into town. Closer to here.”

“Specifically.”

“ _Dad._ ”

“ _Stiles._ ”

“You can read it in his file if he ever does!” Stiles exclaimed, shaking his head, appalled. “You have it down at the station!”

“I suppose you’re right. Okay, Derek, that’s fine.” The Sheriff seemed to back off after that, and they settled into extremely uncomfortable silence. The sound of his dad picking at his thumbnail was driving Stiles up the wall by the time he decided to speak again. “And what are you doing with my son?”

“Oh my god.” Stiles covered his eyes with his hands because he couldn’t bear to look anymore.

“Dating him.” Derek replied, like _oh my god,_ like it was nothing. Like Stiles’ dad had just asked what time it was.

“Why?”

“Because he’s persistent.” Derek said. “And loyal. Courageous. And doesn’t stop talking.”

The sound of his dad laughing was actually enough to make Stiles peek at him between his fingers. “You really hit the nail on the head with that one.”

Derek offered a small smile in response. “And he makes me happy.”

Oh, jesus.

“I see.” The Sheriff managed to grunt in response, but he wasn’t exactly happy with it. “And, Stiles? Does Derek make you happy?”

Stiles squeaked in response and jolted in his seat. He managed to sit on his hands to stop them from flailing. “Uh. Yeah. I mean. Yes. Yes, he does.”

A loud ding sounded from the kitchen and literally saved the day. Dinner was ready. Stiles was out of his seat in an instant, insisting he’d deal with it and leaving Derek to sit with his father whilst he hid away somewhere near the sink. What a nightmare. Except… well, Derek was doing okay, given the circumstances. But Stiles couldn’t stop his anxiety rolling off him in waves and Derek could surely feel it. And it probably wasn’t helping anyone.

“Need any help?” Derek’s voice assaulted Stiles ears and he swivelled around and leaned back against the sink to steady himself. Derek was looking at him flatly, but he could swear he could see some amusement behind his eyes.

“Help? Yeah, totally. But, with dinner? No, absolutely not.”

“What do you need help with?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“You okay, son?” Stiles’ dad’s voice came from the living room, snapping Stiles out of his panic momentarily so he could yell a response.

Dinner was relatively uneventful. Derek was mostly silent, sitting next to Stiles across from his dad and eating his food without complaint. Stiles managed to fill most of the silent, awkward moments with senseless blabber about schoolwork or Scott or _anything_ that came to mind. His dad didn’t seem bothered by it much, talking back to Stiles and occasionally bring Derek into it too. At some point, though, Stiles had tried to sneakily take Derek’s hand under the table just for something, _anything,_ to calm him down. But of course, his dad wasn’t born yesterday.

“Hands on the table.” His dad commanded, making Stiles slam his hands back on the table so hard his fork toppled over and fell onto the ground with an unpleasant clanking noise. He scrambled to pick it up and after that all hands remained in plain sight.

Derek appeared to understand, though, because after a few seconds he pressed his leg against Stiles under the table and kept it there. Stiles glanced over at him but Derek wasn’t looking at him, seemingly more interested in the meatloaf on his plate. He was thankful, none the less.

Later, and after a _lot_ of quiet awkwardness and inappropriate questioning about Derek’s criminal records, his dad called it a night. A polite way of asking Derek to leave. Stiles couldn’t be happier about it, pretty much shoving Derek out the door the first chance he got. The Alpha rolled his neck when he stepped outside like he’d been tensing the entire time he was in there and was now paying for it. But Stiles just thought he looked tired.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles blurted out from the doorway, and closed the door behind him so they were standing alone on the porch. Derek turned and looked at him flatly, like he still hadn’t lifted his earlier mask yet. “For the questioning. And the awkwardness. And pretty much everything else traumatic about this evening.”

“It wasn’t traumatic.” Derek told him, raising an eyebrow. “Your father cares about you, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t have done this.”

“Yeah, a little _too_ much.” Stiles agreed, looking back towards the house and thinking. “It’s because it’s always just been me and him, you know? Ever since mom. I guess he doesn’t like the idea that he has to share me with someone else.”

“I’m never going to take you away from your father, Stiles.” Derek said quietly, sounding so sincere that Stiles turned back to look at him with wide eyes.

“I know that. Of course I know that. It’s just.” Stiles struggled with his words, wishing he could tell if his dad was listening or not. “I wish I didn’t have to lie to him all the time.”

“It won’t be forever.” Derek told him, a small and sad smile on his face. “He’ll find out sooner or later.”

“I’m hoping for later.”

“You just said you were tired of lying to him.”

“I know what I said!” Stiles exclaimed, becoming hysterical. Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m just. I don’t know. Never mind. Thank you for putting up with this tonight.”

“I’d do it again.” Derek flashed his teeth and Stiles felt something spark inside him. “If it means I can gain his approval.”

“We both know you don’t need his approval to be with me.” Stiles reminded him, becoming nervous under his gaze. He cleared his throat. “Not like I’m going anywhere.”

“Your dad’s watching.” Derek informed him quietly, stealing a glance toward the kitchen window. Stiles didn’t really react, because, yeah, he’d figured as much. His dad was sneaky when he wanted to be. “Otherwise I’d kiss you goodnight.”

“Just do it.” Stiles breathed. “He already knows we’re dating. He must know we’re kissing too. And stuff.”

“And stuff?” Derek raised a mischievous brow. Stiles choked.

“Not like that. I mean, we _are._ But I’m not—”

Derek pressed a quick kiss to his lips after that, so chaste and gentle that Stiles felt frozen after he’d pulled away. Derek was smirking over at him before turning away and retreating back to his car. Yeah, because he got to _leave._ Stiles had to go back inside and face the music.

“You’re a dick.” Stiles whispered under his breath once Derek was reversing out of the driveway, because he knew the Alpha would hear him. He waited until Derek’s car disappeared into the night before sucking in a deep breath and heading back inside.

His dad was on him in a second, of course, basically herding him up against the door.

“Hey, dad.” Stiles tried to keep his cool, he really did. “What’s shakin’?”

“I don’t like it, but…” His dad hesitated, taking a step back and stepping towards the kitchen to resume doing the dishes. “You really seem to like him. Don’t screw it up.”

“What?” Stiles stammered, before following his dad into the kitchen with an appalled look on his face. “What makes you think I’ll screw it up?”

“I’m not saying I think you will. I’m just telling you not to.”

Stiles observed his dad from where he stood, and watched as he started cleaning the dishes by hand. Stiles helped him dry them off in comfortable silence for a while, and once they were done, he patted himself dry on his jeans. “You’re the best dad I’ve ever had.”

“I’m your only dad, but I’ll take it.”

Seriously: best dad ever.

It wasn’t until they both settled on the sofa later in the evening that Stiles started to feel normal again. Like, just him and his dad, hangin’ out. Watching crappy tv and eating semi-healthy snacks. Then his phone started buzzing in his pocket.

22:34. **Scotty:** _How did it go???_

“Is that Derek?” His dad grumbled sleepily. Stiles shook his head.

“It’s Scott.”

22:35. **Stiles:** _not terrible. tell u all about it 2morrow_

22:36. **Scotty:** _Okay but I’m not happy about it_

Stiles rolled his eyes and ushered his dad off to bed, swooping back downstairs to tidy up after them before retiring to his room himself. He plopped himself on his bed with an agonizing sigh. So… tonight hadn’t been a _total_ disaster. It couldn’t gone a lot worse, and honestly, Stiles had imagined a lot worse outcomes in his head. Most of them involved his dad shooting Derek in the chest and arresting him.

Neither of which had happened. And it really sounded like his dad had gave them his _blessing._ Weird. Weirdly good.

Stiles had just completed the daunting task of struggling out of his jeans and tucking himself into bed when he heard his window open. He looked over at it in alarm to see Derek climbing through and stepping inside.

“You’re here.” Stiles stated, but it sounded more like a question. Derek didn’t say anything for a moment, as if he was listening to see if Stiles’ dad was asleep or not. So Stiles waited.

“You thought I’d run away since your dad invited me over?” Derek asked once the coast was apparently clear. He had humour in his voice but Stiles couldn’t really see his face in the dark abyss that was his bedroom. He could only make out the werewolf’s outline. Derek toed off his boots and pretty much undressed himself in front of Stiles.

“You’re here for a booty call?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask.

“What? No.” Derek said instantly, sounding appalled that Stiles would even ask that. Hey, he had to pick his moments sometimes. Derek sighed and made his way over to the bed, climbing over Stiles easily and lying next to him with his back pressed against the wall. “You thought I wouldn’t come?”

“Hey, this night has been nothing short of a nightmare.” Stiles defended, but felt the instinctive pull of Derek’s body as soon as he lay down. He leaned closer and let the Alpha nose at his neck and breathe out a content sigh. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if you’d wanna be alone after all of that.”

Derek made a disagreeable noise against his neck but that was his only response. He shifted onto his back and pulled Stiles with him, letting him settle on his chest. Derek was _hot,_ like, okay attractively hot like _burning_ , but also _warm._ Like a massive, furry hot water bottle. All the time. It was great. Stiles welcomed the heat, letting Derek calm him down without so much as a touch.

Mating stuff. Weird. But also good.

“It wasn’t a nightmare.” Derek said quietly, pressing his lips against Stiles’ wild mess of hair. He’d been letting it grown out for a while and it was at that awkward length that it wasn’t exactly short or long. Just somewhere in between. “Your father has every right to be wary of me.”

Stiles put his arm around Derek’s torso, and rubbed a soft circle into the hard muscles of his stomach. “It’ll take a while, but he’ll come around. He already told me not to screw this up.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, after you left.” Stiles told him. “It’s not exactly his blessing but it’s as close to it as he’s willing to give right now.”

“I’ll take it.” Derek told him firmly, breathing into the top of Stiles’ head. Warm breath descended down Stiles’ neck and made him shiver. “My entire life has been a fight. Always fighting for something.”

“You want to fight my dad for me?”

“No.” Derek huffed. “But if I have to, I’ll fight for his approval.”

“You’re so old fashioned sometimes.” Stiles said, but pressed a soft kiss against Derek’s chest.

“I’m older than you.”

“You’re not _that_ old.”

“To your dad, I probably am.” Derek sounded like he wasn’t happy about it. “That’s mostly where his reservations come from.”

“He’ll get over it. There was a bigger age gap between him and my mom.” Stiles told him seriously, halting his movements and gaining a sigh from Derek. Conversation over, apparently. That’s what that sigh meant. Stiles wanted to savour the moment as much as he could because he knew when he woke up, Derek would be gone without a trace he’d ever been there in the first place. And Stiles would have to go to class and deal with Scott and his questioning and nagging. Not ideal.

“Go to sleep.” Derek ordered, and Stiles just closed his eyes and sighed.

**_NOW_ **

****

“I mean, I can see why you were worried.” Lydia says, sounding absolutely like she _cannot_ see how he was worried _._ “I mean, he’s really hot. He’s got great hair, perfect body… I forget, what are we talking about again?”

“Very funny.” Stiles mumbles, sitting with his knees tucked to his chest on the ground. They’re watching Isaac and Scott wrestle each other on the floor a few feet away. The result of an argument for the last hot pocket. Stupid, really, but entertaining all the same. “I just didn’t know who I was, I made a lot of mistakes.”

“No kidding.” Lydia agrees, resting on her hands behind her back. Derek looks over at Stiles from where he’s standing watch with a knowing look on his face. He smiles, making Stiles smile back. “See, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“What?” Stiles asks.

“That thing you two just did.” Lydia says, looking between him and Derek. “You had a conversation without even talking.”

“It’s, uh. A mate thing.” Stiles babbles, because he’s not really sure if it’s a mate thing or a _Stiles and Derek_ thing. He figures it doesn’t really matter either way. “What about you and Jackson?”

“I think I’ll let him grovel a little more.” Lydia smiles, but it looks evil, and Stiles is just a tiny bit afraid of her. “No harm in that.”

Jackson shoots Stiles a look with a mouthful of poptart, so it doesn’t exactly look as intimidating as he intends it to. Stiles shakes his head and smiles, because his pack are back. Together. Allison is chatting to Derek and Derek is smiling. Isaac and Scott are wrestling like brothers. Peter is… Peter, lurking around somewhere but still _there._ That’s something. Erica and Boyd are in their own world, sitting together on the sofa and ignoring the others. And Lydia is next to Stiles, watching it happen.

And everything feels right.

Once the day turns into night and the pack start breaking off into their own little bubbles, Lydia hops away to join Scott and Allison on their travels – something about getting snacks for the loft. Stiles makes sure Scott knows to buy the veggie candies he likes, but he gets the feeling Allison is already on it. Derek manages to pull Stiles away from the rest of them and into their bedroom, grinning.

Stiles wishes he’d never stop seeing that grin.

Derek pulls him into an embrace the moment they’re alone. Stiles revels in it because he’s allowed to _have_ this. Derek is _his._ Derek belongs to him. How is it even possible? How is this Stiles’ life?

And he has superpowers. Seriously? He must have done something _very_ good in a past life to deserve any of this.

“I was thinking.” Stiles says against Derek’s chest, prompting the Alpha to pull back so they can look at each other.

“You were thinking?” Derek prompts when Stiles doesn’t continue. Stiles’ eyes travel to the necklace around his neck, and he hardens his gaze.

“I was thinking I want my ring back.”

Derek looks surprised, like he hadn’t sensed what Stiles was thinking. He actually looks frozen solid, and if Stiles couldn’t feel his heartbeat, he might have thought he’d passed out standing up. Stiles fingers the necklace under Derek’s shirt and pulls it out to look at the ring. His ring. The one he’d ripped off so many months ago and it’d burned him.

His ring finger starts burning the second he lays eyes on it. Derek’s heart beat kicks up a notch.

“You’ll wear it?” Derek asks.

“Yes.” Stiles says. “I want to wear it again.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrow into a v-shape on his forehead. “I didn’t want to force you to wear it, if you weren’t ready.”

“I’m ready.” Stiles says firmly, holding onto the ring like he doesn’t want to let it go. Except he has to when Derek reaches up and pulls the necklace over his head. He dislodges it from the chain and looks at it in his palm like he has to think about it. Stiles wishes he wouldn’t.

“If you’re not—” Derek starts.

“Derek.”

Derek hands him the ring without another word. Stiles fidgets with it in his hands, spinning it around and around like it could answer all of life’s questions with a simple turn. It doesn’t. But that’s just fine. He positions it at the tip of his finger, inhales deeply, and slides it on. Then holds his breath.

Nothing happens. Stiles feels the same as he did without it, except the ghost of something missing from his finger is finally gone. And that’s nothing short of amazing. Derek is looking at him hopefully, putting his hands on Stiles’ upper arms. He’s looking at Stiles like he’s his everything. He doesn’t want that to ever stop, not again.

And the only thing Stiles can do is kiss him. He wraps his arms around the Alpha’s neck and melts into it, feeling like he’s finally where he belongs. He’s where he’s meant to be.

The memories don’t come back. Not really.

And that’s just fine. They'll make new ones.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over! Thank you for coming on this little nostalgia Sterek trip with me! I hope everyone is happy with the ending.
> 
> I wanted to really put a lot of focus on the pack in this, because it's not really just about Stiles finding his way back to Derek. It's about all of them finding their way back to each other. And I just really love good pack feels.
> 
> Again, I wanted to give credit to the beautiful [ 0o0Vanilla0o0](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClNsGXOt8e70Y-y1oV5Yqmw) for their imagination and their amazing [trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_jpmFw1heY) which inspired me to write this story. ♥
> 
> Merci et prends soin de toi! ♥


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